


Thesmophoria

by andrescutieri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrescutieri/pseuds/andrescutieri
Summary: Her end under Voldermort's wand set back some of Lily Potter's plans, but not all was lost. After defeating Death and banishing the pesky Dark Lord with her stunt, she even gained a new follower. Lily won't leave anything stay between her and the new world she planned since infancy, a world of light and prosperity where she is the one and only Goddess.A Dark!Lily, Harem-Master Harry of sorts that simply popped on my head and demanded to be written.





	1. Anodos - Part I

The faint smell of smoke watched over the wreckage of the house like a bound ghost. In her long experience in magical warfare, that was the first time she saw a Killing Curse produce another result besides a dead body, but the cottage looked as if the most powerful exploding curse had coursed through it, from the inside out. Even at the gardens, she could feel the dark magic rippling in the air, like the aftershocks of an orgasm.

The door had been ripped from the hinges and laid flat on the floor. She touched the splintered wood and closed her eyes. Some kind of knocking back jinx had been used on it, and the ghost of a smile graced her lips. In a way, the man had been polite enough to knock.

There were scorch marks on the walls and a long rip line crossing the couch. A wet mark tainted the carpet near the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t need to touch or smell it to know it was piss. Wizards normally thought the Killing Curse to be clean and inexplicable, a light that left only a dead body in its wake. However, the mechanics of the darkest spell of all acted directly on the soul, not in the matter. The unexpected relaxation of the muscles made the body leak its bowels contents before _rigor mortis_ kicked in and stiffed up the dead again. Aurors usually left the stains in place after removing the body, so they could easily recreate the crime scene afterwards. In the scorching days of summer, they would even use preservation charms to make sure the mark wouldn’t dry off.

She tested the first step of the stairs, letting her weight fall on her leg bit by bit. There was a loud creak, but the wood held firm. She climbed up slowly, one foot a time. The upper steps were cracked and moaned loudly, but she could climb. The corridor was short, just four doors, two at each side. All of them were open, the impact of the explosion breaking their locks and almost blowing them off their hinges. She could see a closet, a bathroom, a bigger bedroom with a huge bed, and a smaller bedroom that looked like the epicentre of a disaster. She took that door.

Whatever had filled up the bedroom before, was just a pile of indistinguishable rubble. Broken wood, glass shards and burned cloth were scattered everywhere. The back wall had disappeared, and the night stars burned brightly in the sky. She started to shift the pile of rubble around but quickly gave up. It would be impossible to find something in the middle of so much trash. She couldn’t find the piss stain of the other body. There was fresh blood on a fallen raft, she rubbed her fingertips against it and took the almost dried life liquid to her lips, tasting it quickly with the tip of her tongue. Young, very young. Probably the little boy then. 

She inspected the other rooms with no hope to find something interesting and braved down the broken stairs. There was a kitchen on the ground floor, she opened the icebox. Most of it was full of baby food, in tiny containers. One was labelled _apple pie_ and she took it, unscrewed the small lid and pushed a finger inside. The first lick filled her mouth with the taste of freshly baked pie, just like how grandma made it. She tried to find a spoon, but the drawers and cupboards were locked with a baby-safety charm. The tap was still working, so she washed her hands and dried them before using again her finger to scoop the baby food from the glass jar. It was really good, that’s why, she reflected, children grew up so spoiled most of the times.

There was a door to the basement, but somehow it was behind a small cabinet. She rapped the black wood with her knuckles, and rubbed it with her clean hand, shifting the glass jar around so she wouldn’t stain the cabinet with the baby food. She opened it and it was empty. There was a spell inside, it shifted a little when she touched the door. She palmed her hand against the backboard, closed her eyes and concentrated. An image of a rundown shack filled her mind. A runway scape, through one of the legendary Vanishing Cabinets. She even knew where the matching twin was, the Shrieking Shack had always been a good point to party and fuck during the Hogsmeade visits. The twin should be in the second smallest room, one of the many rooms that had been locked for long. 

However, the Vanishing Cabinets were famously unreliable. They could sometimes take you to other, unintended, places, or stuck you in-between for days or even weeks. In her time, Lancelot Lockless had been pushed inside one and the wards of Hogwarts interfered with the displacement. Instead of exiting through the twin cabinet or even coming back from inside, he had disappeared forever. The First Years probably never recovered from _that_ trauma. It was no wonder they wouldn’t want to use the cabinet as an escape route the second the wards had been breached, even more with a baby in their arms. That meant they had some other escape route. Or, maybe, the baby simply was upstairs when the door fell and they went to fetch it and got stuck upstairs. The door behind the Vanishing Cabinet was annoying her with its secrets, so she closed the black doors, braced herself against the left side of it and pushed.

The cabinet groaned loudly, scratching the tiles of the kitchen floor and jerking to the point of almost toppling over. She grunted, unused to the physical effort, but marched on, squaring her shoulders against the wood and pushing with her legs, trying to find a gripping point in the quite slippery surface. With a final screech, the blasted thing gave in and slid out of the way, revealing a narrow wooden door. She swept the sweat from her brow and readjusted her robes before opening it and trudging down the rickety stairs.

The smell of copper and fat was heavy in the air, making her skin tingle with the oily feeling. The basement was tiny and the ceiling was suffocatingly low. There was no light at all, but she could see clearly the remains of some drawing on the floor. She knelt and brushed her fingertips against the line, bringing them in front of her eyes and sniffing the powder that clung to them. Ashes, a circle and what she supposed were stars and runes. It had been a long time since she had seen hermetic magic. Her knees groaned when she stood up, still sore from all the effort upstairs to remove the cabinet. There was nothing in the cottage, no clue and no reward. It had been only a phenomenal waste of time.

_Your master isn’t here._

She drew her wand. There was silence in the air, the rancid feeling of dark magic gripping her robes with ghostly fingers. She twirled slowly, taking the pitch black room under her gaze. There was movement under the stairs. A black snake uncoiled from her resting position, her small tongue tasting the darkness, tiny beady eyes squaring on her. She strode towards the snake and knelt down to touch it. She moved away from her touch, seeming quite miffed by her audacity.

_Your master is gone, fled through the night. You won’t find him here._

“Who are you?”

The snake tasted the air again. There was something about her, something different in the dance of her scales. It took her a moment to understand and recognize the colour as green instead of black. An emerald snake, and a pretty one at that. The voice in her head, talking directly to her thoughts was familiar too, even if she probably… yes, even if she only heard it spitting spells at her master. 

“How are you alive, Potter?”

The snake moved slowly, curling around her unmarked left arm. She weighed almost nothing, around 3 feet long, but a good 6 inches wide, like a flexible water pipe. Her tongue brushed against her pale skin, and a shock coursed through her flesh. After making sure the snake was secure around her limb, she stood and climbed up the rickety staircase, returning to the soft moonlight of the kitchen. There, her scales shone like precious jewels.

_You have a very good sense of magic. Not even Hagrid found me there._

She snorted but had to recognize the praise. Rubeus Hagrid was a lump of turd, but his magical sense was unparalleled. The man could find a single wounded animal in an entire forest of magical lifeforms. The snake was small but so close to him, there was almost no chance he wouldn’t sense her. He failed probably because she consciously hid her life energy. And probably because she wasn’t a real animal, anyway.

“You haven’t answered my question. How are you alive?”

_Your master wasn’t the only one to take precautions against Death, Bellatrix dear._

She felt a shiver racking her body, but tried to stay impassive. There was a very selected handful that knew her master’s deepest secret. Right now, one of his anchors was still in her possession, hidden in the depths of Gringotts. She was a Black and so had learned much about the darkness. But Potter was a light sided bitch, wasn’t she?

_Looks can be deceiving, Bella, you should know that more than most._

“You are quite annoying in death as you were in life, aren’t you?”

She took another jar of baby food from the icebox, this time one labelled as “Chocolate Pudding”. Complete madness, all of it. How could goo taste so good? Probably her baby was fat as a barrel if he ate _that_ all day long.

_He likes to exercise, that’s why he isn’t chubby. But he has cheeks that make you want to bite him._

“Where is my master right now?”

_Far away. I can’t sense him anymore, but he must have crossed the sea already. His spirit was weak and his conscious was feeble. It will take years for him to recover some sense._

“And why are you conscious? Better yet, where is your anchor?”

But as soon as the last question left her lips, she already knew the answer. Even she had heard the whispers, the tales that wizards and witches traded in the back of taverns and in the darkness of their basements. She had heard the cheers in the streets and had seen the movement in their meeting places. 

“The boy? There were tales about a scar on his head, a scar carved by my master’s wand…”

_A useful assumption. Hagrid saw it while taking him from the rubble. He looked so tiny and vulnerable in his huge hands… It broke my heart no being able to touch him, hold him… But you are right, my soul shard is inside him. I thought it would be… poetic. He resided in me before living, and now I reside in him after living. We are bound by a string of fate as we were bound by my umbilical cord. Isn’t it beautiful?_

“So you split your soul and merged a piece in your own baby? You did it just so you would survive my master’s power?”

There was laughter in her head, and it still tinged the words from the snake.

_Oh Bella, your master’s power gave me no fright or worry. Haven’t I defeated him three times already? His magic is weak and waning, his mind is drifting and dulling… Haven’t you seen the signs even before entering this home? The virgin blood on the doorsill, the runes on the cradle, the human ashes on my basement? You refrained to use your wand under my roof and refused to attack me in my home. Haven’t you seen it all, and yet aren’t you just a servant? The one you call master saw nothing and paid a great price for a great error._

Bella kept her silence.

_I have no fear from Voldemort. Instead, my precautions were for my own gain. This plan of mine has been simmering like a delicate brew for most of my life. And while you judge me for using my own flesh and blood as my anchor, haven’t you done so much more, and all in vain, for your only daughter?_

“Your mudblood tongue doesn’t deserve even to pronounce her name.”

_And yet, my muddy blood protected my son from your master’s curse, while your daughter died inside your womb by his wand._

“I’ve committed everything to his cause, my past, my present and my future. I have no regrets, and no wishes but my master’s wishes.”

_You lie, Bella dear. They took more than they deserved, and it pains your heart and consumes your soul. You wished for life but was rewarded with Death. And yet, even now you search for your old master. Haven’t you learned your lesson that night when he tortured you for so long your daughter died?_

“I… I haven’t told… It was a…”

_A mistake? Haven’t you served a man, mistaking him for a god?_

“And you want me to serve you now, Lily Potter, now that my master is gone? You want me to worship your dirty blood just because you created yourself a Horcrux inside your son’s forehead and survived a Killing Curse? You want me to help you and serve you and adore you as if I haven’t wasted my entire life killing your people?”

_Do you prefer to serve a weak man that got bested by a muggleborn?_

The snake slid from her arm to the kitchen table. It was strange to talk like that, so high up, so she took a seat in front of Lily. The tiny tongue brushed the air and the small head moved from side to side, glancing at everything. Bella slumped, feeling drained.

“What do you want from me?”

_I want my baby boy._

Bella laughed at that, even if her heart tugged hard. It had been so long, and yet so soon since that night. She had opened just with Cissy. Her baby sister had lost one too when Lucius discovered it was a girl. He wanted a male heir, a stud who would carry the Malfoy name further. His friend had produced a potion… Cissy told her the pain ebbed away after some time, that she hardly wake up crying anymore. But Cissy had always been the coldest one of them. Sometimes, she wondered what would Andy say. She couldn’t even fathom the words her younger sister would offer, but she was sure they would heal here more than time could.

“I can’t exactly appear in one of the safe houses of the Order, can I? Even more with their dead heroine turned… Is it really a snake?”

_A magical construct, an emergency body that I carried inside me. When my soul was stripped from my human flesh, I simply migrated to this. After the explosion, I burst out but decided against showing myself. This is a useful body, but it lacks… finesse. Your old master failed in taking this kind of precaution, and now is less than a ghost. But I digress. Harry isn’t in one of the Order’s._

Bella closed the basement door and pulled the cabinet back into place. She was sure to have a sore body after that. Maybe she should have asked to use her wand? The snake had something in her expression that reminded her of an amused smile.

_Albus would mistake my Horcrux inside Harry for a blood protection. Men, no matter if Light or Dark Lords, have a hard time understanding the complexities of love. Your master scoffed at it, Albus romances it. None could even conciliate with the idea that love and power aren’t opposites. He won’t see it as a Horcrux because he can’t understand a Horcrux can be made out of something besides hate. Seeing it as a protection, he would take Harry to my sister, my last living relative, so he would be warded by my blood._

“I never knew you had a sister.”

_She is a muggle._

Bella laughed. 

“I don’t know if I should mock or applaud his line of thought. In a way, that would be the perfect hidden spot, as a Death Eater would never consider the possibility of Harry Potter living with muggles. Oh, poor boy.”

_I lived with muggles all my life and came out quite okay._

Bella didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, she took the snake and let it coil around his left arm again.

“So, can I murder the muggle?”

* * *

Privet Drive was enjoying a calm and silent night. For the sixth time in a row, the forecast was wrong and the night sky was devoid of even a single cloud, the almost full moon shining down the street and lending a bluish hue to everything. Strange things had happened there not very long before, but, like a bad dream coming to an end, the residents were just starting to forget it. The woman in black crossed the gate of Number Four and rapped smartly on the door. In the quiet night, the sound was like gunshot.

She had to knock at least three more times before a light was lit on the second floor. There was a lot of grumbling noises coming down towards her from the inside of the house. At the distance, a cat meowed loud enough to raise the dead, and she was sure someone was spying on her from the house to her left. She had her hood over her head, the black robes shining like obsidian under the blue light. One of the lampposts was flickering madly, producing a buzzing sound. Someone had used magic on it less than a day before.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF—“

Her spell shut the fat man up faster than a lightening. His eyes became dazed and his shoulders slumped slightly as he relaxed. She moved forward and he stepped away, her careless afterthought making him close and lock the door. She glanced at her _guest_ and felt the common disgust at been near a muggle be followed by a new kind of nausea. The man was a mountain of fat and sweat topped by a tiny head covered by a nightcap and a horrendous full moustache. He was wearing striped pyjamas full to the bursting point, his huge chest panting trembling from the effort to go down the stairs. His sausage-like fingers were still curled around the latch of the door, his empty brain waiting for new orders. She had half the thought of making he kill himself in some enjoyably gruesome way, but a hiss under her robes made her go back to the plan.

Light steps announced someone coming, and she turned to face the muggle sister. The woman looked tired and scared, frail and nasty, all rolled up under a too big dull grey camisole. She sniffed loudly, her eyes travelling from the frozen man to her dark figure.

“Vernon? Who is this?”

“Hello, Petunia Dursley,” greeted Bella, getting closer to the woman. “I have a gift for you, from your late sister.”

The woman stepped back, some sort of recognition shifting behind her eyes, her mouth opening to scream. Bella thought about silencing the thing with a spell, but the snake was faster. She tore through the long sleeve that hid her body, striking the thin woman. Her body was light, but the sudden, lightning-fast movement, coupled with the emerald blur jumping on her face, made Petunia trip behind, falling on her back on the floor. Vernon didn’t move a muscle, still gripping the door latch. That’s when Petunia tried to scream.

It wasn’t a wise move. Most of the snake was over her chest, strongly gripping her left breast, the head towering over her horrified face. When her mouth opened to scream, her hands trying to push the snake away, the emerald head stroke again, penetrating her gaping maw and chocking the woman. 

Bella watched the spectacle with some interest. Muffled cries leaked around the snake body as she pulled herself deeper inside Petunia’s throat. The snake’s body entering her twisted her head so her mouth would align with her throat, her fingers trying to grip the body and rip it away from her, but sliding over the slippery scales. Her legs flouncing wildly, her entire body contorting and twirling, her eyes wide open and screaming in silent agony.

The last of the snake disappeared inside her, and Petunia finally laid still. There was blood in the corners of her mouth, the snake too wide to fit comfortably inside it ripped her flesh. Her camisole had ripped open during the struggle. Her small breasts, flabby stomach and wrinkled cunt open to Bella’s inspection. She wondered if the plan had failed and the woman was dead now. Well, she could at least murder the walrus.

Petunia sat up slowly, rubbing her jaw and curling her long, twig-like legs under her flat butt. The camisole slid from her bony shoulders and pooled around her thin figure. She looked up at Bella, blowing the dirty blond hair away from her face.

“This body is bloody horrible.”

She stood up, leaving the clothes on the floor, and walked away from Bella, wobbling a little as if unused with the length of her legs. Petunia was taller than Lily had ever been, but she had none of her curves and her body looked a lot older than her 27 years. She stopped in front of a mirror in the entrance hall, brushing the blonde hair away and glancing critically at herself from all the angles. 

“I look like a vacuum-sealed bag of bones.”

Bella snorted, even if the vacuum part had sailed over her head. Instead, she stood at Lily’s side. 

“At least you have a proper body now.”

A gurgling sound coming from the second floor seemed to unstuck Lily from her inspection. Striding fast with her new, second-hand body, she climbed the stairs and burst into the second biggest room, where a huge cradle held a bald lump of fat. She ignored it while searching, before trying the next door, to a smaller bedroom devoid of life. The third door was Petunia’s room, and the other one was a bathroom. Frowning, she left the boy undisturbed and went downstairs. The kitchen was empty, the living room held only Bella fiddling with a portrait of something that looked like a beach ball wearing a hat. There was a door to the basement, and she went down the narrow stairs, finally finding what she was looking for.

Over the washing machine, in the dark, there was a soapbox, and inside it, there was her little boy. He was dirty and his back was quite red, probably from staying so long inside the box. There was a piece of cloth under him, an old T-Shirt stained with piss. His emerald green eyes found her, and he whimpered quietly. Feeling her heart breaking at what had been done to her precious little prince in such a short time, she took him from the box and cooed softly, kissing his cute cheeks and discarding his too-big diapers. Not caring with the filth that covered his lower body, she cradled him in her arms and went upstairs, talking softly in his little ear the entire time, telling him how she defeated even Death just to stay with him.

“I see you found your little half-blood.”

Bella shut up at her blazing glare and took a step back. Lily ignored her as she went upstairs again, straight to the bathroom. She shifted Harry to her left arm and twisted her wrist in a quick gesture, a wand popping on her right hand immediately. She rolled the wood between her fingers, enjoying the humming of magic. At one gesture from the wand, a stone basing raised from the tiled floor and filled with water and soap. She used her elbow to test the temperature before lowering her precious bundle on it. Harry seemed happy to be finally taking a bath and splashed water a little bit.

“Mommy” called the boy with his sweet, sweet little voice.

“Yes, my dear, I am here, mommy is here again.”

Staring hungrily at the mother-son display, Bella shifted her weight so she could rest against the threshold. 

“Did your husband knew about all of this?”

“Of course not, Bella, don’t be silly. James was… a cute guy, he had everything I needed at the time, but he was unprepared to dwell in the darkness like we are. He was playing red-and-gold hair pranks on Slytherins when I was studying the dark arts. I regret we couldn’t have more time, but he never was a long-term part of my plans.”

“He had everything you needed? Like what?”

Lily gave her an amused smile, using her wand to dry the baby and clean her own naked body.

“Well, he had money, some amount of power, a fantastic library, a big cock and worshipped me as if I shit gold. In fact, it was his treatment that made me realize a critical error in my plans: I never wanted to be a Dark Lady or some kind of dictator. That never was my style. But the way James looked at me would make me shiver every time. That’s why I’m doing all of this, defeating Death and raising my son here, away from the wizarding world. And that’s why you are here, Bella. I’m now a Goddess, and you are my first priestess.”

She left the bathroom and Bella followed her in introspective silence. Lily used her wand to create a new cradle and fitted it inside the baby’s room, making Dudley Dursley wake up and start to whine. With a silent spell, the lump of fat fell asleep again. Lily cooed at her little prince and finally laid him on the new cradle, playing with his little hands until the exhausted little thing closed his eyes and went to the land of dreams. 

“I would offer you the fat one, but it wouldn’t be fun for you to have a muggle. As my priestess, only the best will be offered to you. We’ll get you pregnant later, a little prince or princess of your own will start the process of healing you need so much, dear Bella. The pain from the little girl that was stolen from you won’t ever go away, but every smile of your new baby will help you carry the burden with more grace. In time, you are going to find your will to live again.”

Bella swallowed the strange lump in her throat and followed her new Goddess out of the room. Maybe Andromeda wasn’t the only one in the world who knew the things that run deep under life. Maybe she was right in betting her last chips on this woman.

“Of course you are, my pretty Bella. Oh, how I wish I could speed up the merging process with this horrible body. I can’t wait to have my beautiful hair again. Wish Petunia took better care of herself.”

“Was it a really big cock? I mean, how big could it be?”

Lily quirked her eyebrow at her, and showed Bella her hands, spaced to reproduce the length. She let them drop and waved her wand, soft relaxing music playing in the bedroom, the door closing quietly not to disturb her little boy or the lump. She would have to get rid of the thing, Petunia had probably received her prince two days earlier, so she most surely hadn’t registered him yet in the muggle world. She would register herself as his new guardian and simply rewrite the memories of her new neighbours so “Dudley Dursley” never existed. The thing would be probably happier in an orphanage or some such thing, she remembered how much Petunia suffered while living with her and her magic, the lump would have to live with three magical beings, maybe four after she impregnated Bella. Yes, it would be easier getting rid of it now, while he was somewhat presentable and had a chance of getting adopted. 

So, the next step would be making sure the neighbourhood accepted the changes. She needed to add some memory triggers and suppressors so they would even accept her own changes, as that sack of bones would surely be reshaped into something more appropriate for a Goddess. After that, she could make a new backup body and put it inside Petunia’s. 

No, first she needed to review any safety measures Albus had left behind. The wards were easy to go through, as they were based on her own Horcrux, so the house wouldn’t be able to detect her, as she would appear to the magic as another part of the ward itself. Albus probably had left some ties to those trinkets he fiddled with in his free time, and the man liked his spies to a fault. That line of thought made her remember something else… 

Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble but met Sirius Black before leaving. Sirius had betrayed her trust, ignoring his duty as Harry’s godfather to go and search for the damn rat that almost destroyed her plans. If the man had stayed and done things properly, Harry would be safe with him and she could work on obtaining a better body than that… skinny, flabby thing Petunia had to offer. She could easily seduce Sirius, it wouldn’t even be the first time, and marry him. That way, she would have a clean cut way to get Harry, grab another fortune and even indulge in some carnal pleasure. Sirius never recognized her divinity, but she had yet to find a dog that couldn’t be properly trained. 

But no, Sirius had gone in his own demented manhunt, and Harry was left in the _tender_ care of his magic-hating relatives. He would probably fail, and maybe even be accused of being the traitor. Well, he could suffer for a bit. She could rescue him anytime she wanted, and some time in the doghouse would make him more agreeable to her plans. It would suck to only have priestess, even if they were gorgeous, intelligent and _delectable_ like Bella. A well-mixed clergy was something she always dreamed about.

“The walrus is still stuck to the door.”

Lily sighed. The days ahead would be busy, and any faulty step could set back her plans even more. For now, she needed to establish her position in that house, dominate Bella to keep her on the line, get rid of Petunia’s lump and make sure Harry recovered well from his recent ordeal. After that, she could take care of the rest of her plans. One step a time, Daddy had taught her.

“Didn’t it hurt a lot?”

“What?”

“A cock that size.”

Lily smirked. 

“Order the walrus to sleep on the couch and act normally tomorrow morning. He must not talk about you or what happened tonight. After that, come to the master bedroom, I will teach you how to properly worship your Goddess and… other things.”

Bella moved towards the staircase but paused for a moment. She seemed a little bit shy, maybe because Lily was almost drowning the house in dark magic. Her body needed some time to adjust its output.

“Other things, my Goddess?”

The woman laughed at that, before using the tip of her wand to trace the neck of the Black beauty.

“I will torture you tonight, little Bella. But, from what I heard about you, you’ll probably enjoy it.”

And, in fact, she did.


	2. Anodos - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has smut. 
> 
> Thank you all for the reviews, kudos, bookmarks, followings and PM's! I've tried to answer you all, so keep sending me stuff and reviewing! The story is building some steam in this chapter, and the next one will have more Harry for those that are waiting for his appearance!

Pamela Polkiss had waited almost half a day before she finally gave in and decided to resort to a more direct approach. She had been lucky the night before, her diet-breaking midnight snack gave her the chance to gaze over the street and check if the horrible child of the Rothbard’s had come home drunk once again. It had been the gossip of the month, the last time, for the boy had lost his keys and had to call loudly for his mother to open the door for him. Pamela shivered in disgust just by remembering that night. If he were her son… Well, Piers would never humiliate her like that. He was a sweet, cute baby with thin brown hair just like hers, and she was sure he would bring nothing but pride to her and her husband. But, the night before, the soap opera wasn’t happening at the Rothbard’s, but right under her nose, on Petunia’s lawn.

A figure dressed in black from head to toe had arrived half past two in the morning and knocked loudly on her door. Vernon had opened and ushered the figure inside, and… that’s it. She had stood by her window, in the dark, for almost two hours, but nothing else happened. An hour after the figure’s arrival, all lights had been turned off, and no more was heard.

She was tired but had woken early, just to catch Vernon’s departure. She had coaxed her husband to leave a little bit later than normal just so he could greet Petunia’s overweight husband (she insisted he was big boned and had been a Rugby player in college. The fact she couldn’t provide even the college name was a story worth pursuing later). The man hadn’t acted differently at all, greeting Mark with a petulant wave and driving off on his brand-new black car. They hadn’t seen Petunia, but that was hardly uncommon. Her son was a little devil and fussed to hell and back to keep seated and eat. Petunia would struggle with him for hours. Thank God Piers was so much more well-behaved, she would kill herself if her little angel was so annoying as Dudley.

She held camp around the bedroom window. Her kitchen didn’t have a good line of sight, as the hedge was tall enough to hide Number Four from view. But, the entire morning, the house stayed quiet and almost devoid of life. Petunia normally would open the bedroom windows and the curtains in the living room and the kitchen, even more now that Vernon had brought that annoyingly huge television set. They had positioned it so anyone passing in front of the house would have a good eyeful of the device. But, that morning, the curtains stayed shut, the door locked and the house silent.

Around noon, she baked a cake. She hated having to directly contact the neighbours just to discover what they were up to. It always made it harder to pass the information on, as she would be the prime suspect if some secret was spilt. But Petunia was being annoying and Mark would come early that night so they could go to one of his stupid club meetings. Piers fussed, refusing to eat his food, but she braved it with a smile and put her finishing touches on her cake.

Petunia’s doorbell didn’t sound like a bell at all but instead played a soft melody. It always grated on her nerves, as it sounded so much more refined than her own doorbell but it would make her look stupid to install a similar one on her house. She had entrusted Mark to find something to up Petunia’s, but he had come empty handed so far. She plastered a smile on her face when she heard the door unlatch.

“Petunia dear, how good to see you,” she greeted, noticing and cataloguing the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and the new clothes. Well, not new, she had seen Petunia use that skirt and that blouse, but never together, and never with such… Elegance? She had terribly skinny legs and very knobby knees, so every single skirt looked ridiculous on her, except for the longer ones, but Petunia hardly used them. However, the colourful flower pattern hid her legs, the wide skirt giving some shape to the otherwise lamppost-like woman. Her blouse was light blue, with puffy sleeves, shaping her a little better. A thin belt trimmed and flaunted her tiny waist. “I’ve brought you some cake to thank you for that pie.”

“Oh, Pamela, I was just thinking about you! Please, please, come in, I’ve just put the kettle on the stove. Humm, that smells heavenly.”

When Petunia twirled on the spot, Pamela noticed the woman was wearing heels. Petunia _never_ wore heels, as she was tall enough already. However, the shoes and the clothes made her look prettier, like a model or a television actress. Her hips were swaying from side to side while she walked, and it was hard not to look. Pamela could almost taste the juicy gossip in her tongue. Maybe the dark figure was a… oh, what if he was Petunia’s lover? A foreign man, sweeping the mild housewife from her feet and dominating her? Making her dress like… well, it should be like a scarlet woman, but Petunia’s outfit was very proper and nice, just… flattering her best attributes while hiding her lack of curves. But then again, how would Vernon act so _normal_ when his wife’s lover arrives in the middle of the night…?

“Oh, you have guests. I’m sorry, Pet, I’ll… I’ll be upstairs.”

Whatever train of thought was passing through Pamela’s head screeched to a halt at the figure that appeared at the kitchen door. Pamela could swear to God the very air was knocked out of her lungs when her eyes landed on… that.

It was a woman. Almost as tall as Petunia, the dark figure (because who else would it be?) wasn’t a lover, at least she hoped to God it was not. Maybe she could even admit it was a beautiful woman, dark eyes, dark hair, perfectly modelled fine eyebrows, a full mouth and high, defined cheekbones, a defined body and great posture. But its visage was…

There was a steel ring in the middle of her bottom lip, dividing the black-painted lips perfectly. Another metal ring pierced her right nostril, while three nail-like studs where aligned through her left eyebrow, giving her face an asymmetrical and mean look. Both her ears were loaded with earrings of different shapes, trailing down the shell or crisscrossing it, ending in huge fine metal earloops that dangled freely at every step the woman took. The piercings, however, were just part of the incredible _freaky_ appearance, as tattoos littered over her body: there was a — believe it or not! — pair of guns pointing one to the other sprawled over her chest, aimed slightly downwards, the barrels trailing under her collarbone, the triggers hovering over her breasts. Her T-Shirt had been ripped and cut, the collar removed to make it look like a strapless blouse, showing off the violent tattoo. The shirt ended just a little bit under her full breasts that already strained the material and showed her lack of bra, and her toned, almost muscly belly was painted too, arabesque lines and something that looked like runes sprawled right under her breasts almost to the point of touching her bellybutton. She had three piercings through it, one coming from the top and other two angled from the sides, the tree inner balls fused together to shape the piercings into a triangle united from the centre.

Below her navel, an emerald snake twisted over her skin, from the left to the right, its fangs poised to strike, its tail dipping inside her waistband. Her black jeans were ripped, and Pamela could see the snake tail on her left leg through one of the many holes in the material. She could see other tattoos on the… woman’s legs, and even on the top of her bare feet. Her left arm was covered in drawings from the shoulder to the wrist, and there were letters printed on her fingers! Even her hairstyle was freaky, the left side had been totally shaved, making her long, luscious ebony hair cascade down only to the right. When the woman crossed in front of them and went up the stairs, Pamela could see almost her entire back, as the shirt was even more abused on it, and huge black wings were tattooed on the pale-white skin.

“That’s my sister, Lily.”

Pamela had heard of Lily just once before. When Vernon and Petunia moved to Privet Drive, she had told her she was an only child, but in one of the many book club meetings, the woman finally confessed having a younger sister. At that time, Petunia had simply said they had no contact anymore, and that the sister’s name was Lily and she had long lost her path in life. The displeasure in her voice had been so hard they had dropped that gossip immediately. Every family has a skeleton in its closet, and it was unpleasant to poke around it. Now, having finally met such skeleton, Pamela wondered why Petunia had let it enter her house.

“Are you… in some sort of… trouble?”

“What? Oh, no, no. Let’s talk about it over a cuppa, shall we? And we can cut this cake, it’s still warm! Here, let me pour the water.”

As Petunia busied herself in the kitchen, Pamela took a seat and discreetly observed her guest. The new clothes were strange, the horrendous sister was stranger, but the true displacement came from how _normal_ Petunia was acting. As if bringing… _punks_ to her house was an everyday occurrence. She had seen _punks_ before, loitering on the streets behind the market, doing drugs and listening to loud music. Maybe Vernon and Petunia were part of the drug business? She had heard that those that sold drugs earned a lot of money, maybe that’s how Vernon afforded a new car every year. That’s it, there was no way they could be so well-off just from his job in the drills company…

“I’ve never told this story before.”

There was a shift in the air, as Petunia placed the cup in front of her and drank from her own. Her eyes were strange, soft and hard at the same time. Pamela fidgeted in her seat, half excited, half scared by it all. As if edging a precipice.

“You can tell me, Petunia. Anything. You know you are one of my best friends, don’t you?”

There was a long, pregnant silence while Petunia sliced the cake.

“When Lily was born I was six years old. It had been a difficult year, she had been a surprise for all of us. As both our parents worked in the factory the entire day, I needed to help mum with the baby. It was fun, at first, like playing house, but I soon started to take it more seriously. My name was her first word, I taught her how to walk, how to run and how to climb trees. I taught her the letters, the songs and all the games. She would… walk, behind me, on the street, while I sold the embroidered napkins and towels my mom produced, talking no-stop and filling my days with questions, word games, music… We told each other everything. Well, she told _me_ everything, and I told her what a teenager girl would believe is proper to share with her baby sister. I remember a dress, a green dress embroidered with tiny red flowers… I sew it for her, even if I was really bad at it, so she had something new to wear to her birthday party. I had to almost rip it of her, she wore that thing so many times that we had to destroy it and tell her the washing machine ruined it when she got too tall to wear the dress. She cried the whole day…

“Everything changed around her eleventh birthday. An elite private school in Scotland offered her a scholarship. They had been… Amazed by her intellect and her talents. I… was against it. Not because I was jealous of the scholarship: I was sixteen at the time, and looking for a job already, almost out of high-school. But I feared change. My cute little sister, living alone in Scotland, in a school we couldn’t visit… But she went. It was, after all, a one-in-a-kind opportunity, and so we dropped her at King’s Cross, hoping against hope everything would be alright. Well, it didn’t.”

Petunia poured more tea while Pamela watched, entranced.

“The letters home were full of wonder and joy, the school was huge and _magical_ , there were a lake and a forest, and a dormitory for girls from all the United Kingdom. But soon, reality tainted the magic. She was a girl with no background, no contacts, no money, riding a scholarship in a school full of young lords and ladies. People that could trace their forefathers all the way to the foundation of our country. The letters changed, not in content, but they came home always full of lies. I’ve made friends today. The classes are great. The professors help me with my troubles. People like me here. I’m fitting in. I fell down on the lake in the middle of November and had to stay in the Infirmary for days ‘cause I couldn’t feel my fingers, but that was entirely my own fault.”

Her eyes were unfocused as if reading letters long written. Her tea was cold, but she didn’t move to pour a new cup. She was far away, in a past full of regrets no one could change.

“My worst fears soon became truth. She started to hang out with the other misfits and deviants. She went down a path of darkness and pain. She had to go through too much, all alone. That… changes people. And every time she came back home, I was the only one who saw that change. But I was young, stupid and scared. I couldn’t go to Scotland to set things straight. I couldn’t save Lily, and my words were empty and hollow. My own impotence became anger, and anger quickly soured to hate. I could see where she was going to, and I could also see I could do nothing to prevent it. The last time I saw her when I married Vernon, the only thing I could say was four spiteful words that I regret to this day: you are a freak.

“When she married, I refused to go see her. The bridges we had built were already long burned. She wasn’t the girl I raised, and I couldn’t accept that fact. As it were, I always thought her husband would be exactly like those misfits: a good-for-nothing, lazy-ass moron. However, that man could do what I couldn’t: he showed her beauty, purpose and understanding. He went straight from school to law enforcement and studied hard to become a good policeman. He also captured dozens of dangerous criminals, risking his own life to make our world safer. While together, he made her regret her decisions, and work towards a new path.”

Petunia paused and stirred the cold tea. The house was silent, no sign of the woman they were discussing.

“Her husband was killed this week in their own house.”

Pamela felt the air hitch in her lungs, her hands flying to cover her gasp.

“It was an act of revenge by his actions. A break-in in the middle of the night. He was unarmed, he believed he was safe inside his home. She was half asleep on the couch when it happened. And now, after so many years and so much pain, she came back searching for me, and we are ready to try again. Lily will be living with us, as she feels her home isn’t secure anymore, and we will… recover together.”

“Oh, Petunia dear! I… I don’t even… I mean, that’s such a shocking… Well, huh, is there something I can do to help?”

“Thank you, Pamela. Really, just knowing there are people that care about here is already making a world of good. It will take time before she gets used to strangers again. The shock was too great, you see, and sometimes she gets… lost in her own mind, confused, like forgetting how to use a light switch or how a television works. I’m giving my all to make this easy for us. You know, it’s like taking care of the baby all over again, and I’m rediscovering the joy of living with my sister. Here, let me call her, I think she will love your cake.”

The woman really did enjoy the treat. She was quiet and seemed confused by it all, jumping from her seat when the doorbell sang again with a delivery for Vernon. They didn’t talk much, but the woman had an ease presence, even with her disturbing appearance. She was a dear to look at when Petunia brought her baby downstairs, the tattooed beauty spoon-feeding him patiently, an adoring look in her eyes. Pamela supposed the woman wanted a baby of her own, she could see the motherly instincts screaming in her posture. A policeman and a punk. In a way, it was _quite_ romantic.

Pamela left just before Vernon arrived. Petunia had to bath the baby, and Lily wanted to rest some in the guest bedroom. But, before letting her go, Petunia asked Pamela to spread the news of her new resident. She needed to stay at home and take care of both the baby and her sister, but she wanted people to come and talk to Lily, so she could get used to it a little bit faster. Petunia even wanted to throw a little get-together around the end of the month, after Lily met every one of the _proper crowd_. A ladies night. With carte blanche to gossip about the newcomer, she was sure there would be no shortage of visitors.

With a mission in her hands, Pamela left the house and marched straight to Margaret’s, maybe she would use the excuse that Piers wanted to play with his friend. Cradling her baby in her arms, she thought about Petunia’s boy and the hungry look in Lily’s eyes. Well, she could understand her a little bit. Harry had chubby cheeks to die for.

* * *

 

“Why can’t I go, again?”

Pamela rolled her eyes at her husband, pressing her dress down her body, worried about the length of the skirt. She hadn’t used that one since Andrea’s marriage three years before, and her butt had been gathering steam since then, making the hemline rise considerably. But, well, Petunia had asked for such wear, and she didn’t have another one…

“Mark, I told you already. It’s just us girls, hanging out at Petunia’s. You really don’t want to go to Lily’s baby shower, do you? Oh, just the talk alone would already hurt your male sensibilities.”

Mark snorted, adjusting his tie.

“Well, I don’t like that Lily woman. Look like a goddamn troublemaker. I bet she doesn't even know who the father is.”

“You are being mean, Mark. She is strange, sure, but a total sweetie after you get to know her better. And her dorky ways are quite funny, can you believe I had to teach her how to use a stove?”

“Now we know how her husband died: hunger.”

“That’s not funny,” retorted her, but he just chuckled and kissed her cheek. The babysitter was watching TV in the living room, the gift was on her bed and the husband was gone. She slid her hands down her body once again and breathed deeply to gather courage.

Her heels clicked loudly on the desert street. Petunia had left all the lights on, festive flasher lights in red and green illuminating the garden and tracing a path from the gate to her porch. There was a crude banner over the door, a piece of cardboard where someone had traced letters with a Sharpie.

“Lily’s baby shower: men not allowed” she read, a smile splitting her face. She hadn’t been so giddy since… well, maybe since her marriage? There was no way Petunia would hear the soft melody from the doorbell, Pamela could hear laughter and music even from the porch. She knocked loudly.

“Pamela!” Petunia exclaimed, opening the door fully after recognizing her. The last month had been good to the woman: her hair was bright red, fuller and firm (she confessed dying it blonde for most of her life, to be less showy), she had gained weight, but in a good, healthy way. Her face was less thin and gaunt, even her lips were fuller. The bright green eyes were even more prominent with the carefully applied delineator and the colourful shadow over her eyelids. She was wearing a cocktail dress, the bodice straining hard against her huge breasts. Those boobs still stirred envy in Pamela, who knew fake tits could look so gorgeous and _natural_? She couldn’t exactly remember when Petunia’s got them installed, she even had a feeling she called the woman a “lamppost” not so long before… maybe around May? Well, no one would call the redhead flat now. Her platform heels were adorned with tiny metal spikes and clicked loudly against each other as the woman moved away from the door and shushed Pamela inside, taking the gift from her. “Oh, thank you! Lily’ll be so happy, you know you made a great impression on her. Come on, everybody arrived already, let’s get you something to drink.”

She was passed a crystal flute full of golden champagne. Petunia had installed makeshift curtains in the entrance hall, and the number of coats hanged there was staggering. Petunia really wasn’t pulling any stops on that party, it seemed most of Little Whining was there, all women, talking loudly and drinking… ooh, great champagne. So, she would spend a night feeling young and free again, getting a little tipsy and gossiping away with every sort of right people. Take that, Mark and your stupid club.

Petunia shoved the curtain away and they entered the living room, full to the brim with beautiful, well-dressed women and… Pamela gasped so loudly some of the nearer guests looked at her, laughing at her reaction.

In the centre of the room, standing on the tip of his toes, was a man. She couldn’t recognize him, as his entire skull was enclosed inside a leather mask, with just two tiny holes in the front to allow him to breathe, and a heavy, steel zipper closed over his mouth. He couldn’t see them, and maybe he couldn’t even hear them under the full-black, stretched material. It was also the only stitch of clothing on his body, and what a body that was! He was huge, at least 6 feet and 3 inches tall, muscly like a weightlifter, hung like a horse and covered in scars, from neck to toe, deep gorges and ropey tissue, as if he fought with wild animals regularly. His long, thick arms were stretched above his head, his wrists tied together, a strong, impossibly thick chain keeping them up, binding his arms to the ceiling, where a piece of plaster had been removed to expose a rafter. His long and terrifyingly thick cock was hard, pointing almost straight up, a steel ring pressing around its base. The man was sweating profusely, grunting loudly against the mask and pulling so hard on the chain to the point of keeping it taut. He had to stand on the tip of his toes to reach the ground, and his gorgeous muscles were shifting and trembling hard against the effort.

“Petunia? What is this?”

The redhead laughed, sipping on her own flute. The women around the _guest_ were talking and giggling, drinking and eating as if it were completely normal to have a naked bound man in the middle of the room. Some even gazed at him heatedly, something that rubbed very wrong with Pamela, as she knew almost everybody there, and only a handful of the guests wasn’t married or in a relationship. She had heard about bachelorette’s wild parties, but that was something so far removed from their reality in Little Whinging that they could only think about them as an enigmatic abstract concept.

“You know Lily isn’t pregnant yet, silly, how could we have a baby’s shower with no baby? I can’t believe you realized that only now!”

Pamela took a sip of champagne to unglue her dried tongue from her mouth, the surreal situation making her head spin. She took a deep breath, feeling the delicious alcohol sliding down her throat. She glanced at the bound man again, and couldn’t help but admire his hard, masculine figure.

“You… well, you are right. It must have escaped my attention,” she drank her whole flute in one big gulp and reached for another, that Mrs Rothbard was offering. “Yes, silly me. Well, it’s a lovely party, Petunia dear, congratulations! And… who is our guest? I assume he…”

“He will be our main attraction, of course, but you don’t know him yet, Pamela,” obviously not, she’d never even looked at such an incredible piece of male meat before. “His name isn’t important, I mean, he is just a disposable cock for Lily to ride, but it would be difficult to call he _it_ the whole night… So, let’s see… Something fitting… Remus? Romulus? Romulus! That’s a nice name for our plaything. Want to know something funny, Pamela?”

Pamela’s head was spinning so fast she had to circle her arm against Mrs Rothbard’s waist just to keep standing up. Kimberly had such a sweet smell emanating from her golden hair, she just wanted to bury her face in it.

“Oh, do tell!”

“You know how they say all men are just wolves? Well, with this one is certainly true!”

Laughter spread through the room, and Pamela found it impossible to resist, giggling away, still half hugging, half groping Kimberly.

“And where is the future mommy?” she asked, feeling the alcohol doing wonders to soothe her nerves. In fact, she didn’t even remember why she had been nervous in the first place. Weren’t they all best friends? And, well, Kimberly was looking at her in a way that suggested they could be even more before the night ended. Also, those shrimp dumplings were delicious! She would have to beg Petunia for the recipe.

“She is upstairs, you know, getting the jitters. Let me fetch her.”

Petunia walked away, and Pamela was shoved in a sofa, where Kimberly landed a moment later. The blonde’s breath was sweet and spicy all at once, making Pamela shiver when that little red mouth almost touched her earlobe while she whispered.

“Can you even imagine having a thing that huge inside you?”

She couldn’t. The man grunted, pulling the chain. Some of the more bold women were around him now, stroking his muscles and dragging their long, sharp nails the length of his member, blowing on his neck and playfully slapping his taut buttocks.

“Mark isn’t even half of it, I think it would rip me apart” she didn’t know why she admitted that, as she was perfectly happy with her marriage. Maybe it was Kim rubbing the stretch of naked skin at the back of her dress, the woman’s fingertips tracing trails of goosebumps on her pale skin. She drank from her flute, feeling like a teenage girl on her first date.

“Well, my husband isn’t short, but I don’t think it would be a smooth ride on that schlong. That doesn’t mean I won’t ask for some, you know!”

She giggled, but Pamela’s mind was slow on the uptake.

“Ask for some?”

“Oh, Pam, didn’t you hear Pet? Romulus is the party entertainment tonight. I just hope he has enough juice to keep up with everybody here.”

Pamela felt dread spreading through her stomach. She eyed the trunk-like appendage that someone (from the back, it was hard to say, maybe it was Emmeline Vance from Number 17?) was furiously masturbating. The man was struggling against the binding chain, grunting loud, his legs flying from side to side, his muscles rippling. The other women were observing the spectacle, the ones touching him were rubbing themselves on his back and arms, kissing his exposed neck and tonguing his nape. Romulus trembled even stronger, his buttocks clenching and his arms tightening…

Emmeline let him go with a harsh movement, the others stepping away. A clear dollop of lubricant fluid travelled from the tip of his twitching length down to the metal ring at the base, but that was all the release he obtained. The man grunted like an animal, his strong arms pulling so hard on his bind Pamela feared the rafter would give in. The idea of what he would do with them if that happened made her shiver in Kim’s arms. The woman was kissing her neck, the alcohol made her head spin, a heat spreading from her core to her head, she wanted so hard to get out of the tight dress…

“Attention, attention!” called Petunia, descending from the stairs, her sister in tow, the dark-haired woman covered in a long black bathrobe. “Let’s show our appreciation to the future mother!”

The guests burst in applauses and some catcalls, Kim whistled loudly, while Pamela clapped excitedly. The air shifted, something interesting was just about to start and they all could sense it.

Petunia walked to the centre of the living room, the women stepping away and forming a circle around her. Lily stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking a little bit nervous, a whole lot excited. The crazy hunger was back in her eyes, even from the other side of the room Pamela could see it. She was fidgeting with her lip piercing, rubbing the tip of her tongue over it, or carefully biting on it. It was sexy, just like Kim’s hands grazing over her breasts. Like a show-woman, Petunia stood beside the man, her red nails nailing his back, dragging down smoothly and sadistically, welts of an angry scarlet opening in their trail, red blood thinly flowing from them. The man roared like a caged animal, but couldn’t move at all, as if stuck in place by her mere presence. Pamela could feel wetness spreading to her panties and dress.

“Thank you all for sharing this moment with us tonight!” Petunia started, raising her flute of champagne. “Tonight, my sister will start on the path of healing, fulfilling a promise I made to her just about a month ago. Tonight, we will show her the beauty of love, the warmth of family and the greatness of sharing. So, with no further ado, let’s start the show! Ladies, please.”

Emmeline Vance and three other women dragged, pushed and baited Lily forward, her half-shaved head moving from side to side, laughing and playing with her “captors”. Other pushed Vernon’s armchair in front of the bound man, just a few feet away from him. He growled when the group passed by him, testing hardly on his bond, but they ignored the chained man.

The punk beauty was pushed down on the armchair, and the girls pressed down her arms, keeping her immobile. Petunia sashayed forward, like a tigress stalking her prey, sliding in Lily’s lap. She took the bathrobe belt in her hand and yanked hard, removing it in a swift movement, then raised her arm, showing it to the room, the women cheering loudly. She lowered her head until she could look Lily in the eye, then threw herself forward, capturing her own sister’s lips in a deep and harsh kiss.

The girls around divested the black-haired woman from her bathrobe, flinging it away. Pamela, who had to approach the scene like the rest of the guests, gasped when she realised she still hadn’t seen all the piercings the woman sported. Her nipples were adorned with little horizontal bars, and there was a vertical one protruding from her clitoral hood, she couldn’t see it properly as Petunia’s hand slid down in front of it, two fingers plunging inside her baby sister.

Petunia left Lily’s gasping mouth and moved away, dragging the robe belt with her. The girls moved in, grasping Lily’s legs and raising them, pinning them against her own shoulders, her cunt opening obscenely. There were cute black ribbons tattooed on the back of her legs, just under her bubble butt. Pamela dragged a finger over one of them, feeling the warm, sweaty skin. Emmeline was kissing the woman.

Petunia circled the man and used the belt to viciously whip Romulus’s back, laughing maniacally when the first welts appeared on the scarred skin. By the sadistic gleam in her eye, Pamela had to wonder if the man was chosen randomly, or if the redhead was using the party to get revenge from something the man had done. Kim grasped her head, hard, and turned her face so they could kiss. Every thought fled the woman for a while.

When she came back from the heated kiss, Petunia had finished the torture session and zipped open the mask, revealing his mouth. His tongue was lolling out, the man seemed a little insane from all stimulation and pain. She grasped the back of the mask and roughly pulled his head backwards, before pouring the contents of her flute down his throat. Most of it splashed around, but enough entered him for her to release her grip.

The man started to growl like an animal, pulling even harder on the chain, every muscle in his body becoming taut, thick veins popping out on his neck. The rafter groaned loudly, and Pamela felt fear and excitement, so huge and so intricate she couldn’t find where one ended and the other started. The man was drooling, the zipper still open and flailing on his head. Petunia went behind him and touched the shackles.

Like a silver wolf jumping on his prey, the beast leapt forward, his still chained hands grasping the black-haired woman’s tiny waist. He plunged hard into her, making her gasp loudly, a gasp turned into a moan as he gave away to the most basic instincts and trusted like a possessed monster, droll and champagne spilling from his clenched teeth. He trusted into her with so much force that the women around them had to keep pressing her down so the armchair wouldn’t topple over. There were six of them, Emmeline and Mary almost behind the chair, holding her legs up by the long thin heels of her shoes, Selma and Lauren pawning her huge tits with one hand and keeping her hips pressed down with the other, and Pamela and Kim at each side of the men, grasping the arms of the chair and her shapely butt. The sounds, the smell and the pure raw presence of the act were making Pamela sweat profusely, her eyes almost glazed on Kim’s.

The woman moaned loudly, thrusting her hips forward to meet the beast’s, her sharp black nails ripping the arms of the chair, her lips smashed sometimes by Emmeline, sometimes by Mary, black lipstick smeared on their mouths, her sweaty hair tangled in Mary’s fingers, the woman pulling it hard and viciously in time with every thrust. Petunia stood behind the man and started whipping him again with the belt, tipping the beast into a frenzy of pain and pleasure. Under him, the woman was screaming.

Pamela was relieved of her position after some minutes, another woman taking her place at Lily’s side, slapping the beauty’s buttocks and urging her on. Pamela fell in the arms of another woman, a brunette she had never met before. They kissed heatedly, her dress falling to her feet and kicked away, their legs tangling when they fell on the sofa where two girls were already making out. Pamela was pushed down, sliding to her knees on the fluffy carpet, and hesitated for a moment.

“Come on, hon, don’t tell me you never munched on a woman before?”

She hadn’t, but before she could say so, the woman poured champagne over her own belly, the liquid sliding down her navel and over her sex, the smell of alcohol and excitement enticing Pamela. The music was loud, the grunts and moans were louder, she couldn’t even remember her own name, so she dipped her tongue and tried her best to drink everything.

After so many minutes, she was distracted from her duty by the cheers around her. Raising her head and turning back, she saw that Lily was still under the man meat, but she had grown annoyed by his endurance to cum. She was glistering in sweat, red thin welts on her breasts and buttocks where the girls had been scratching her skin with their nails, a red flush on her face. Petunia was behind the chair now, her hands grasping the thin heels to keep her in position, her red lips whispering in her sister’s ear. Suddenly, the black-haired woman lunged forward, the bathrobe belt in her hand.

She slapped the belt on his neck, the other end circling the thick meat like a whip, her other hand flying forward and catching it. Her clenched teeth showing in a savage smile, she strangled the man fucking her with all her might, her tattooed arms taunting and bulging with the effort. The beast was so crazy that didn’t even try to grab the rope, instead, he pounded even harder, making the entire armchair groan with the violence, the girls cheering for the mad woman under him. His neck was thickening, every muscle popping out to fight the rope until it was too much. The belt ripped in two, flinging her arms away when the force keeping them taunt disappeared. She cried aloud, and the monster finally creamed in her with a primal growl.

Whatever was in the champagne that Petunia kept flowing around them, it kept the beast hard and mad. His neck was crossed by an angry red mark where Lily tried to strangle him, and his purple and red cock was still stony and pulsating madly when he disengaged from her with a loud pop. The woman had cum again when he spilt into her, and looked tired and battered, sprawled on the armchair. Emmeline Vance, seizing the opportunity, kicked his legs from under him, making him crash loudly on the floor, then lowered herself on his cock, ripping her dress after every inch was inside her.

Pamela’s partner was making out with another woman, her partner’s fingers rubbing circles on her sex, but she didn’t have to wait long before finding another one. Mary was wild and hot, bucking against her when they rubbed their cores together. Someone was keeping her somewhat upright, she could feel big breasts pressing on her back, but had no idea who was it, and it didn’t matter. After Mary, she had a round with Tina Brooks, a younger black woman, barely out of her teens, who had moved to Privet Drive six months before. After that was an unknown ginger who fingered her hard enough for her to black out for some minutes, and then she was the one on the chair.

The beast towered over her, and she felt fear and excitement again. Petunia was smiling at her, so beautiful and kind, and Kim held her heels pointing to the ceiling. Other girls had taken the beast from behind, like bitches in heat, but she thanked whoever had pushed her in that more normal position. She wanted to see the huge thing spearing her wet cunt.

It was painful, but the pain ebbed fast, leaving just the burning pleasure. She never imagined a woman could feel so much pleasure, but the brute ravaging her insides proved her wrong, making her brain explode time after time, each thrust pushing her higher and higher. She felt thirsty and, as if foreseeing it, Kim brought a flute of champagne to her lips. She drank greedily, but most of it dripped down her chin. Kim grasped Pamela’s small breasts and clenched her fingers, her nails painfully and deliciously biting her skin, a fire-hot tongue lapping the spilt alcohol, from her belly to her nipples, from her nipples to her collar, to her chin. They kissed deeply, tasting every drink and every lover they had so far. Pamela shrieked her release, and Kim held her lovingly, waiting for the trembling to pass, before attacking her abused lips again.

The monster took an eternity to cum, and she couldn’t even think straight, even more, ask for him to do it outside her sensitive and quite red pussy. It was a good thing the party was winding down already, as no one removed her from the armchair. Kim stayed with her, cuddling and fingering her in alternate bursts, already full to the brim with the beast’s spunk. She had been one of the first ones to have a ride, just like she wanted.

The seed was dripping from her, and she had no idea what to do. She had felt the strength and the voracity of that beast of a man. She was on the pill, but Pamela was totally sure she was pregnant again, by a man she hadn’t even seen the face. The force of that seed wouldn’t allow any other result. Her legs trembled with the aftershocks of her last orgasm, and she couldn’t even say how many she had already. For a woman who had none before that night, it meant a lot. Someone kneeled in front of her, and she felt a mouth sealing against her, trying to suck the cum out of her.

“Nooo,” mumbled her, using her bare feet to push her away, gently. “Mine, it’s mine.”

She felt Kim’s breath even out behind her, and the woman she had pushed was now sleeping on the floor, naked. Pamela urged her tired body to get up, her husband should have arrived already. She needed to explain… Scratch that, she needed to fuck him, fast, so he wouldn’t suspect when her pregnancy started to show. But the thought of letting that tiny dick worm inside her again, after just getting the ride of her life on that monster… Well, she would worry about that later. Feeling another aftershock cursing through her abused body, she cupped her hands against her opening so no more spunk would fall and waste. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

 

 

Bella was having trouble keeping upright, half because of the alcohol, half because her cunt was on fire after the rough treatment. While every girl had her share, it was _her_ baby’s shower, after all, so she rode the dick carrousel five times that night. The heels were killing her, the whole body protesting against such abuse. For years to come, wondered her, that would be the day she was certain she had entrusted her body, mind and soul to her Goddess.

Lily was at her worktable, writing. There was a stash of parchment to the side, every sheet filled with the redhead’s tiny, loopy handwriting. Bella approached slowly, placing each step carefully. The whole room was spinning. Lily turned her chair when she heard movement. She was naked, sweaty and happy, and Bella’s heart soared with how beautiful her Goddess was. Her knees gave away, but it was okay, she had reached her objective. She steadied herself by grasping Lily’s knees, before dipping her tongue on Lily’s folds. The Goddess tangled her fingers in her sweaty black hair, caressing. Bella resisted the urge to purr like a contented cat. Her Goddess was harsh and loving, all at once, all of the time.

“What about the body?”

Bella raised her glistening lips.

“I put him in the basement, for now.”

“Good, we can drive him home tomorrow, after you recover a little. How was your baby’s shower?”

“I loved it, my Goddess.”

“Hum, I bet you did. Ooh, right there. I knew it was a great idea to pierce your tongue.”

Bella was too occupied to answer.

“Did you ride him?”

The black-haired woman raised five fingers. Lily chuckled.

“No, Bella. Did you ride him while you were killing him?”

Bella bit her gently, giving all the answer she needed. Lily laughed out loud that time.

“So, I was thinking about Selene, what do you think about it?”

Bella raised her head, her chin dripping. She knew her Goddess was almost to the tipping point, so she raised her hand so her fingers would continue the job.

“I… I was thinking about continuing tradition… My family all give names from stars and constellations to our children… I was, you know, I wanted Cassiopeia if it were a girl, and Arcturus, like my Uncle, if it were a boy…”

Lily buckled against her hand.

“No, Bella, I was talking about our project. Selene, as the author. You can follow your traditions. Ohh, right there. But… Arcturus? You liked him?”

“He always gave me a chocolate toad after I blown him when I was little. I liked him the most from all my family. It was a pity I had to kill both of them last week, so Sirius could inherit after leaving Azkaban.”

“It was… oooh, it was necess—oh my—ssary. I hope you forgive me, Bella.”

“How could I even get mad at you, my Goddess? Your word is the law for me. Forever. You fulfilled your promises to me, you kept me out of prison, you even removed the marking from my fake master from my arm. I gave you my life, that night, and I won’t betray you, never.”

“Use your mouth on your Goddess, them, little Bella. I want to feel the stud again.”

It took just a few minutes before Lily buckled again and released her nectar in Bella’s mouth. She drank it happily, her hand over her belly. Her Goddess had taught her so much, in so little time. But, above all, she taught Bellatrix that every woman was a temple for the Goddess, and every child was an Apostle even inside the womb. No matter if boy or girl, Bella knew she would love the baby, and she knew the baby would learn to worship her Goddess that gave them life and a safe place to live. In her heart of hearts, however, she really hoped for a girl, as she had been crazy for one since she discovered herself pregnant the first time before the fake master had ripped her daughter from her. Maybe she would ask the Goddess for some intervention, she knew there was a potion the Pureblood used to make sure a male heir would be born, even if the woman died in childbirth because of it. Maybe she could brew something new, something wonderful. Only the thought of it excited her again, so she lowered her mouth for another session of worshipping.

Lily gripped her head, hard and mean, before using her toes to rub Bella’s abused pussy. That was her Goddess, harsh and loving, all at once. She licked the ring in her lip, feeling her taste in the metal.

“Selene, I like it.”


	3. Anodos - Part III

Privet Drive had changed some, in the last seven years since Bellatrix Black moved in Number Four. Well, the street was still large and well-kept, sided by middle-sized square houses, lush manicured lawns and expensive cars, and except for a new layer of paint on some doors, it was almost the same as the first night she arrived there. But, after glancing deeper than the façade, one could easily spot the changes.

The children, for example. While it had been in Lily’s predictions, even she had been surprised when a whole 27 women had got pregnant in her little party. Both Lily and she had to go the extra mile with memory and confusion charms to dispel suspicion. Nonetheless, the neighbourhood became very famous, and even BBC had run a small piece about the “baby boom of Saint Agnes”. Even so many years afterwards, couples from all over the country would come to the tiny chapel at the end of the street and light a scented candle before the image of Saint Agnes, wishing for a small miracle to happen in the hopeful woman’s womb. And, more often than not, their prayers were answered. 

With the surge of small children, the women had bonded closer. The needs of pregnancy had quickly flattened the fences and walls, both in the street and their minds. Husbands would gather a lot for barbecues, hotpots or just to crack a beer and watch some game, while the wives would come and go from each other houses exchanging dishes, recipes, gossip and some very discreet intimacy. Bella mainly liked to fuck Polkiss, because the woman was a complete whore.

The plan was for them to be there just for a year or so, before moving to someplace out the country, where Lily would be able to implement her plans away from prying eyes. However, Privet Drive had been so good to them that they decided to stay longer. Lily also wanted Harry to have hands-on knowledge about the muggle world, something Bella herself had turned her nose on before. 

And, to the list of things that at first were to be temporary but quickly turned permanent, she kept the punk look, and in fact revelled in it. When she was a teenager, the Black family had been very strict with her, curbing most of her wishes and ideas. It was hard to compete with Cissy, the perfect Black Princess, but things turned for worse when Andy defected and ran away with that boy. Bella was forced to marry that oaf Lestrange, a man she despised for his tiny brain and even tinier equipment. She had played a game at first, the Quiet Proper Wife that Tortured Her Husband in Private, but it had become boring very soon. It had been a very happy day when Lily procured the parchmentwork with the goblins so Bella would return to be a Black. The fact that Lestrange had died in Azkaban had nothing to do with it, of course.

Bella hadn’t been the only widow, nonetheless. Vernon Dursley had a very unfortunate heart attack not long after the Baby Shower, something that cemented the young, suffering sisters in the hearts of their little community. The man had left them some money, and Lily quickly invented some cock and bull story about working from home to a small company dealing with _compooters_ , whatever they were. People easily gobbled that up, probably because they had no idea what that meant too.

She put the laundry in the washing machine and tapped the wooden construct with her wand. Being home was nice (having Lily on top of her the night before had been nicer), but with two kids there was no end to the housework. She trudged up the basement stairs, feeling the sting in her abused bottom. The riding crop had been _exquisite_ , but it sure had been hard to sit or to move up and down the stairs. Maybe she would ask Lily for some murtilap essence and some rubbing. Or she could make Harry rub it for her, he was so cute when teased. 

Her mood nosedived when she remembered Lily would be gone again the next day. She had found a good lead in Bulgaria and had to pack in a hurry before the information was picked up by some other. Bella had just come back from her own mission. These days, the work had been piling up, and they would be all together for less than a week before one of the two had to leave. They had promised each other never to let the missions overlap, so one of them always was at home for the kids, but with the number of leads, side missions and quests, it had been difficult. Bella thought it should be hard for the children, but they were strong and very independent, so it hardly showed. However, it was just façade — she was a mother, she could sense their loneliness.

She would convince Lily to have a break after the Goddess returned from Bulgaria. Maybe they could travel to somewhere cold, as the kids were home for summer break. Yes, maybe the mountains, Cassiopeia was too young to remember visiting them before. Thinking about her daughter, she went upstairs and knocked on the smallest bedroom door. The five-year-old could be such a lazy-bones in the summer. Bella smiled, thinking about all the times her cute baby had complained about the heat. She was a winter girl, just like her mother. Hum, the room was empty, the bed was properly made and there were no toys on the floor. Maybe those child-raising books were producing some results. Not as if she would say that aloud, Lily would be insufferable for weeks as she had been the one to praise them before.

Harry’s room was also tidied up, but the raven-haired boy was nowhere in sight. They probably had gone playing with their little friends. She picked his stuffed owl from the floor and put it back on his bed, opened the windows and spied the street. Cassiopeia was with him, there was no doubt of it, and he could take care of both of them. Lily’s power and kindness were showing more and more in him. He was eight already, and still unholy cute. Lily had been very careful for him not to grow up conceited and stupid like his father, but there was nothing to worry about. The boy was kind to a fault and had a strong self-assurance around him that would make the girls throw themselves at him as soon he hit puberty. The way Lily was possessive, that would be very interesting to see.

She closed the door and went to their own room. Lily was very confident in her taste for muggle clothes, but she sure was a disaster around robes. She probably packed a bunch of plain black ones and so be it. Bella wouldn’t let her Goddess look like a Hogwarts first year in Bulgaria. Even at almost thirty, she looked more like twenty-two, she would look great in some of those new robes _Lilith_ had been advertising the last issue. Bella herself looked barely in her twenties, their powerful magic and a good amount of potions keeping their looks even after pregnancy and the passage of years. Lily could easily model for the next cover of _Lilith_ if she deemed wizarding fashion worth a single thought.

The room was perfectly ordered, but something was wrong. She strode towards the closet, and thoughtlessly moved the dresses and robes away, finding the hidden door in the back. She opened it and hissed loudly. One of Lily’s Ward Breaching Stones was tucked in the corner, a round river stone with a perfectly circular hole carved in the middle. Both Lily and Bella had used those stones countless times, pushing it against a ward without breaking it, then using the hole to shove a wandpoint inside the ward. The hole was big enough just to provide some wiggle room to the wand so one could cast elaborate spells without disturbing the ward… or for a couple of tiny thievery fingers to be pushed through. She snarled, yanking the stone from the corner and pushing her hand inside the jewellery safe, feeling the ward trip as it should.

In the middle, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup was proudly displayed, encased in glass. It was full to the brim with tiny blue diamonds, each one of them worth more than the entire Privet Drive. There were Black enchanted jewellery and inestimable heirlooms, pearls and jewels of every size, colour and age. On the bottom, right in front of where the stone had been, one of the small drawers was slightly open. She drew it further. There was a bunch of silver rings in there, she rummaged around the drawer, before closing it with a loud thud.

She was going to kill the little buggers.

* * *

“Mom is going to _murder_ me,” Cassie proclaimed, her small hands pressing against her face and hiding it. “I’m _so dead_.”

Harry rolled his eyes at his sister’s drama and put his face closer to the grate, trying to see something in the darkness. The children called it the rainhole and, at first, it had been only a passage in the curb for the water to drain down. Later, it was expanded to improve its drainage and had become a real deep hole in the side of the Main Street, covered with a metal grate. It was filthy, smelly, and completely dark inside.

“She’s not going to simple murder me, oh no,” Cassie went on, the other children shivering at her defeated tone. “First she is going to torture me, for hours and hours, and then she will gut me. You know what gutting means?”

Peter Polkiss moved his little head side from side, his eyes wide and fearful. Cassie looked right in his eye, grey on grey. It was the most evident proof they were half-siblings, like almost three dozens other children. Really, Peter’s dad was stupid to believe he was his son.

“It means she will cut my belly open with a knife,” Cassie helpfully explained to the children around her. “Then she will take my intestine and put one end of it on a pole, before throwing me from the roof or something like, and I will dangle for hours, while my intestine unrolls, and then… I die.”

For someone a half step away from death, she seemed really enthusiastic about it. She even had removed her hands from her face, just to describe in gruesome detail her death. Harry threaded his fingers on the grate rails and pulled up, the metal groaning a little.

“Do you know how long is an intestine?” Cassie went on, targeting Melody Hunter this time, the older girl was already very green in the grills. Funny expression, that. “Mrs Webber said its over 12 feet long! Imagine the time it will take before it unrolls? Mom will need to push me from the top of a building!”

“Cassie, help me out!” Harry called, interrupting his sister. She scrunched her nose when she saw him touching the slimy grate.

“I won’t touch _that_ ,” she answered in her most posh voice, the one she had started to learn so she could act like a proper lady. “It’s icky.”

“You’d rather be gutted by Mom Bella?”

The five-year-old sighed while she pondered her fate. Icky or dead? Well, it wasn’t a hard choice. She grasped the grate and pulled it up effortlessly, the metal creaking loud when she burst the solder joints just with her bare strength. While small, Cassie was super strong. Mom Bella said she took it from her father. It was another clue to Peter’s true father: while none of the other children had Cassie’s crazy strength, they were strong and incredible healthy even for muggle children. Peter would be a football star someday and Harry had a feeling he would not be the only athlete Privet Drive would gift the world.

Cassie tossed the grate to the side before cleaning her hands on her hanky. Harry wished he had one too, his hands felt greased only from touching the metal. He manoeuvred so he was crawling backwards to the whole, grabbing on the scorching asphalt. He had a feeling the hole wouldn’t be hot (or even warm) inside.

“What are you doing?” Cassie asked, surprise on her pretty face. She really looked like Mom Bella, from the perfectly straight nose to the high cheekbones, but with stormy grey eyes instead of black and long straight hair while her mom had curly tresses. With her little hands on her lips and a furrowed brow, she looked even more like their mom. Harry was half inside the hole, his feet pressed against a pointy stone jutting from the wall, in the darkness. He was right, the hole felt cold and narrow. He smiled.

“I’m going to bring back the ring, so you don’t die. Keep an eye out for cars, huh?”

He lowered himself even further, his hand finding some support on the rough surface. Cassie was worried, her little hands twisting against each other.

“And don’t make that face, or it can get frozen like that forever,” he joked, before disappearing inside the rainhole.

The place was tight, and _dark_. Harry was a little tall for an eight-year-old boy, with wide shoulders, and the walls of the hole were unforgiven on him. More than once his shirt snagged on something, and the last time he was sure he had ripped it. Well, he supposed it would be easier to explain a ruined outfit than a lost ring. He sighed, searching with his foot for the next foothold, finding nothing and glueing his sneaker to the wall with a tiny burst of magic. Sweat was dripping from his brow, the alternating spells were way harder than what his mom let him use inside the home, during his studies. His magic was still more accidental than controlled, so he couldn’t even call what he was doing a sticking charm. Every magical foothold held differently, and twice he had lost the feel of magic and slid down roughly. 

The bottom of the rainhole was exactly like he imagined: filthy, damp, cold and dark. Looking up, he could only see a small rectangle of blue sky, quite far away. It was deeper than he had expected. Harry took a deep breath, raised his hand and called forth some magic.

Cassie only wanted to show off a little. Really, they didn’t need a real ring for their game, anything would be enough. However, he had the suspicion Cassie had invented that game only to get the ring. She had been crazy for it since mom Bella showed it to her, saying one day that ancient piece of metal and magic would be hers. His raven-haired little sister was anything but patient. She couldn’t even understand the concept of waiting for something to happen, most of the times. It was no wonder they got in so much trouble.

But, hey, she was his cute little sis. He would get her out of trouble every time she recklessly dove in. 

A small ball of light floated from his palm. It was the size of a marble ball, and the bluish light made it hard to see something in the hole, but it was better than darkness. There was a large pipe jutting from the wall, and another going down, probably to the sewer. If the ring had fallen inside that one, it would be lost forever, as it was as wide as Harry’s fist. But they had heard a sound when the thing fell down, so it was probably in the muddy filth on the ground.

_Hello speaker._

Harry jumped in fright, the voice seeming to echo in the confined space, neither male or female. His ball of light fizzled and gave out, so he pressed himself against the slimy stone of the wall and listened carefully. There was a rustle in the darkness, but it was too close to the ground. He concentrated and produced another light, even smaller as he was occupied listening out to dedicate himself fully to the magic.

“Where are you? Show yourself!” He said, the light floating over his stretched palm, it was hard to point it to the ground, he was afraid to drop it. Tired as he was, he might not produce another one.

*I can’t understand you, speaker. Come closer, I’m here.”

Against all his instincts, he knelt on the mud. There was a small snake on the ground, slithering from side to side, seeming… excited?

*A speaker! How lucky!”

Harry finally realized that the _snake_ was the owner of the voice he was hearing. As muggles couldn’t talk to snakes, that probably was something magical he was doing. Passive magic was a very wide subject, he knew something about talking to magical animals, but the snake didn’t look like a Beast. He remembered mom Bella talking about some magic to talk to serpents, maybe in one of her Dark Arts lessons? Or the History ones? Or the Pureblood Customs ones? Well, probably the little guy wouldn’t kill him if they could chat so normally.

Well, Cassie would have a field day when he told her about the snake. They had watched one of mom Bella’s horror movies, late at night and with almost no sound on the TV, and it had a huge snake living in the sewers and eating people. Cassie loved the movies, even if she would get in trouble for watching them without permission and had talked at length about how exciting would be to have a man-eater snake in Private Drive. She would be pleased to know that her dream had come true, even if the man-eater part was still up to debate.

“What’s your name?”

The snake stopped slithering and raised its small head to look at him. It was just a garden snake, probably washed down by the storm two weeks previously. Poor guy, living in the rainhole ever since. Well, it didn’t look too hungry, so maybe there were rats or something down there? From its lack of reaction, it hadn’t understood Harry. Maybe there was some trick to speak with snakes? Harry looked at in right in the eye.

_What’s your name?_

_What’s a name?_

Harry smiled. He had done it! Well, it kind of make sense for the snake not to have a name, it was kind of a human thing. Maybe non-magical animals had other ways to differentiate between each other? Smell? Did snakes had noses?

_A name is… a word, I guess, you use to call people, so you can know when people are talking to you. Like when you call me speaker, that would be a name. Do you understand?_

The snake seemed to ponder for an instant.

_No, speaker._

Harry rolled his eyes.

_Forget it, did you see a ring around here? It’s a round thing, made of metal…_

The snake slowly opened its mouth, showing the Black Heiress Ring inside it. It barely fit, the guy was really small. Harry jumped in happiness. Cassie wouldn’t be gutted that night!

_Yes! That’s it! Can you give it to me?_

The snake closed its mouth and looked at him in a very calculating way. 

_I found it. It’s mine._

_Well, what will you use it Mrs? You don’t have fingers! But, you are right, you found it. So, how about we trade? What do you want for the ring?_

The snake lowered its head for a bit, shifted its coils and then looked at him again, seeming resolute. Harry wondered if his snake-speaking powers also gave him the ability to decipher snake expressions.

_Up._

He smiled. Coming closer, Harry extended his arm. The snake rubbed against it, and slowly slithered up, coiling around his flesh very firmly. Its small head stopped right next to Harry’s right ear.

_Are you male or female?_

_Female, speaker._

Harry used a small amount of magic to glue his hand to the wall. With a grunt, he started climbing, slowly and steadily. The snake looked like she was having fun.

_I’ll call you Penny. That’s your name now. I once read a book about a guy named Pennysomething that lived in the sewers. Couldn’t get much of the story, mom found it and took it from me. She said I’m too young for that kind of book._

Penny didn’t offer any opinion about his mother’s parenting skills.

_Now, I can take you home, but first I have to tell mom about this speaking power, so I will leave you in the bushes on our lawn, it’s very safe and sunny there. After, I think I can take you to my room. You’ll love it, there are a big window and lots of sunlight for you to rest under. And we can try to scare Cassie, but I think she will probably call you cute instead of being scared. She has very unique tastes, even for a girl._

Harry lifted his head from the rainhole. The first thing he saw was boots, high-heeled boots made of deep black leather, shining under the sun. Naked pale tattooed legs, a very short leather skirt. Besides the legs, she saw smaller, shorter boots dangling in the air, small legs encased in ripped tights and knee-length child-sized skirt. His eyes went up two torsos, one a lot more mature than the other. The woman had one hand on her hip, the other was holding Cassie in the air by the scruff of her shirt. Smothering black eyes zeroed in him, one of the boot encased feet started to tap. Cassie was looking to the ground, bonelessly. The other kids, wisely, had disappeared as soon as Bellatrix Black appeared on the curb.

“I have a perfectly good explanation for this,” Harry said clearly, acutely aware of the filth in his hair, face and body, his torn clothes, ruined sneakers and snakehead socks. He also could sense the horrible smell from the gutter, and some of it would leave with him. 

The snake raised her head from his collar, looking scared and very out of her depth. Penny uncoiled forward very slowly, without taking her eyes from the woman, and opened her mouth, spatting a saliva-covered Black Heiress Ring on the street, the just payment for the lift. Bellatrix raised a single thrice pierced eyebrow, and Harry gulped.

“For all of this,” he assured.

* * *

Bill Weasley was dying. There was nothing he could do about it, even if he could move his hand enough to grasp his fallen wand. He didn’t even have the strength to turn over, so the blazing sun could cook him on the front side too. Instead, he laid on the burning sand, almost buried already, feeling the life leaving him.

He had never thought about death before. He had seen a lot of grief, during his first years, as his family and most of the wizarding world had suffered for a long time after You-Know-Who’s defeat. However, death had always been a strange, nebulous concept for him, and his Hogwarts Years, full of life and laughter had chased the morbid thoughts away. He had gone from Hogwarts straight to Gringotts, seeking his own independence and a life of adventure. Never before he had thought that that life would be so short.

There were two main tasks a Curse Breaker had to perform, he had learned on his first day at the goblin bank. Curse Breaking itself, the art of dispelling dangerous magic, and Ward Breaking, the subtle activity of disabling protective shields and limiting lines. In class, during hands-on practice, he had soon discovered both tasks were complete opposites: one had to be fast and sharp to dispel a curse before it attacked and broke you, and one had to be slow and cautious while investigating the weakness of a ward. He had excelled in both and had quickly been sent to the Egyptian branch, where he could train with the best, finding lost treasures in long-forgotten pyramids and tombs. 

It had been his first assignment. The “young bloods” working together to turn down the ward protecting the tomb, only six of them. Two goblin instructors in the back, watching and grading their work. Bill was the leader of the group, as his grades were the best, even if he still struggled with the language. He had been slow and cautious, just like the books taught him.

The curse woven _inside_ the ward had never appeared in one of his books. In fact, it should be impossible, there was no known literature about cursing a ward, as that would be like anchoring the curse into magic itself, instead of an object. There was a rumour about You-Know-Who cursing the DADA Professor position at Hogwarts, but that was it: a rumour. One couldn’t curse such an abstract concept as a staff position. One couldn’t curse a ward. One couldn’t react quickly to the impossible, changing from slow to quick, from cautious to sharp. 

That’s why Bill Weasley was dying in the sand of the desert, that’s why his tentative friends and grumpy instructors were in mangled pieces around him.

He was mangled too. Something in him, something deep and primal, far more in tune with magic and his own body that his conscious self could ever be, had sensed the impact, making him pull back his wand hand and brace himself, thrusting his left arm forward, parallel to his eyes and face. The curse had ripped that arm to the shoulder socket, but his head was saved by it. At the same time, his legs gave away and he toppled on the sand. For a moment, he had thought he had been only exhausted and shocked by the magic, then he realized his legs were gone.

The scorching sand drank his blood thirstly, but even after so long, he was still alive. Bill had read about cruel curses that kept their victims alive and agonizing for hours, some even for days. Maybe that was the case, or maybe his sense of time had simply skewed so hard to make seconds feel like hours. 

Something brushed him on the side and wiggled itself under his chest. He was too tired to even grunt. But his dried up lips parted and his hoarse voice screamed when he was rolled roughly, sand burning in contact with his gaping wounds. His eyes were dried and unfocused, the sun was too bright after who knows how long he laid face down. The figure towering over him was just a blur of light and shade. But, at the top, he could see red hair, beautiful like…

“Mom?”

His voice sounded weak and distant, even to him. Maybe he hadn’t even spoken, just moved his lips. He was so tired, his wounds couldn’t even produce pain anymore. He was floating in his head, every thought a challenge for his dulled brain. The figure crouched beside him, and a cool, god-sent cool hand brushed his long hair away from his face. 

“You are very strong, you are the only one who survived.”

The voice was wrong, the figure was wrong, even the red colour was wrong. It wasn’t his mother, it was just a female wandering in the desert. But she caressed his face so lovingly, in his last instant in life, that he couldn’t ask for better.

Then her hands snaked under his torso, like a final embrace. And she lifted him as if he were a ragdoll, and the grotesque pain robbed him of every conscious thought.

* * *

Bill was comfortable when he woke up but, even more surprising, he was still alive. Maybe it had been only a dream, he wiggled his toes just to check they were still there. But the pain from sunburns and the exhaustion was still there, proving he wrong. He opened his eyes, but couldn’t see. The redhead panicked for a moment, before realizing he only had a piece of cloth over his face. His arms felt like made of lead but responded enough for him to remove the cover.

He was in a tent, just like he had been living the entire month. It was a normal wizarding tent, wide and spacious, with a pitched ceiling made of cloth. He wasn’t on a bed, but on a straw mat on the floor. The smell of incense was strong, but the room was devoid of furniture. He was naked.

The nakedness made Bill realize his arms and legs were whole again. That would be impossible, as dark magic fought against the healing arts. The senior curse breakers all had scars that couldn’t be vanished with magic. As he was young, he thought them wicked. The arm rotated fine, even if tired to the bone, and the fingers were deft and strong like always. He wished for a mirror, but couldn’t find anything in the room, not even his wand. He craned his neck to see the arm from all angles and found the seam.

It looked like a tattoo. A black ring, half-inch thick, run around the shoulder, laying on his torso, going under his armpit and coming around the shoulder blade, as if he had painted the arm socket. Other ring circled the top of his left arm, and when he raised the appendage and stretched it perfectly away from his body, he could see the two rings aligning. Thick curving lines connected the rings, like half-moons of black, in a repeating pattern between the rings. He tried to count them, but they were too many, not even an eighth of an inch between them, all curved to the same side, all perfectly aligned, circling the whole arm. He had never seen such marking before.

Bill shifted, tossing the light sheet to the side, and stood up, wobbling a little on exhausted legs. He wiggled his toes again. The same tattoo was on his each leg, on his tights, one black ring circling the muscle the other about an inch below, half-moons connecting them. He tried to stand straight and still: both were perfectly level. He brushed his fingers over the marking, but it felt exactly like his own skin, just pure black instead of tanned. 

“I see you are awake already.”

The voice made him spun on the spot and he stood face to face with his saviour. The woman was older than him, but not by much, and absolutely gorgeous. Long flowing red hair, emerald green eyes, full lips and an aristocratic face over a slightly long neck that made her seen even more regal, her body looking fit and curvaceous at the same time: big breasts, small waist, long firm legs. She was wearing muggle clothing, and her small, tight shorts left her tanned legs bare. She was wearing short boots, that creaked low when she moved. Dragon hide but a muggle cut.

“Who are you?” He blushed even as the rude words left his mouth. There was no doubt the woman was directly responsible for his survival. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He opened them again. “I mean, thank you for helping me, I’m sure I would have died in the sand if not for your intervention. But, I think we’ve never met before…”

She seemed amused by his change of tone. She left her body slide down to the floor, crossing her legs as she did, and looked perfectly at ease, sitting in a bare room with a naked young man in front of her. He gulped and threw his hands in front of his manhood, looking wildly for something to cover himself. The light sheet over the mat flew towards his hand, and he grabbed it. However, instead of covering himself, he couldn’t help but stare dumbly at the cloth.

“How…?” He had no wand, and yet he had done magic.

“You still have some of my magic in you. That’s why you can do some wandless spells, for now” she was amused, and he probably had looked stupid, his eyes bouncing from her to the sheet. She arched her eyebrow and blatantly looked downwards his body, making him yelp and finally move to tie the sheet around his waist. 

“I’m… I mean… Uh…” Bill was stuttering, but he couldn’t piece enough words together to convey what was storming through his mind. “How…?”

“I am a licensed Healer who likes to dabble in some very obscure branches of magic. You had lost three limbs and a lot of blood, so I had to improvise with what I had at hand. Are the legs and the arm feeling okay? Any stiffing? Shakes? Needle-like pains? Crumbling?”

“No, they feel fin…crumbling?”

“As I said, I had to use what I had at hand. That means, sand.”

Bill moved his hand in front of his own eyes, rotating the wrist to glance at the skin on its back, the veins and the tiny freckles.

“This is… sand?”

“Of course not. That’s flesh and blood and bone, perfectly integrated with you. If not for the binding seams, you wouldn’t be able to notice the difference. But, yes, that _was_ sand before becoming flesh.”

Bill never heard of a spell able to transfigure sand into flesh, even if he never been a prodigy in transfiguration like Tonks. He flexed his fingers, almost expecting them to crumble and fly away in grains.

“My name is Lily Potter, you may have heard of me.”

Bill’s eyes snapped to her, his own hand forgotten. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help. He was around eleven years old when Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who. While he had never met her before, there was a photograph of Lily Potter in almost every house in their world. His mother had hers just below their family clock, a huge painting of the woman cradling her baby in her arms. That woman in front of him, however, was quite different from the painting.

“You don’t look like Lily Potter.”

The redhead woman smiled.

“As you just observed in your own body, William Weasley, no one survives a brush with death unscratched.”

He moved his lips, trying to ask her questions, but every single of them looked so important he couldn’t determine which would be first. She choose for him.

“Your name was tagged on your jacket. The clothes are gone, however, and I don’t have anything that fits you in here. I’ll provide you with a cloak, later, when we were outside. As I said, I have an interest in obscure branches of magic and, just like your goblins friends, I realized that those old tombs and ancient magical sites are a trove of knowledge just waiting to be unburied. That’s exactly what I was doing before. You and your team were trying to unlock the wrong door, I’m afraid. I’ve been inside the tomb for the last three days before I’ve found you in the sand.”

“I… Uh, thank you, for saving my life.”

Her smile was wide and warm, but he could detect a hint of wickedness underneath it. As soon as he realized that no Healer worked for free, dread uncurled in his stomach.

“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t do it for the kindness in my heart alone, my dear. But we’ll talk about the price later. About your other questions, my great knowledge about forgotten magic guaranteed my baby boy would survive that madman’s Killing Curse. However, every great magic demands a greater price. When I recovered my strength, things had already changed much, both in our world as in my own body. But I’m still the woman that fought beside your late uncles in the Order of the Phoenix.”

“You are really… you! But why nobody knows about it? You are a heroine in our world! A saint! A…”

“Goddess?” Her smile was predatory now, and he shivered. But, like a mouse in front of the great serpent, he couldn’t move an inch. “There is nothing I would love more than announce my survival to the world, William. But I learned something that night when I first ‘died’. I’m not the only one who knows the forgotten secrets of the world.”

“Who?” But he realized as soon as he asked. “The Dark Lord…”

“Voldemort lives,” said her, and the cold rage in her tone frightened him more than the name. “And secrecy is the only thing that keeps my baby alive. But soon will come the day when all this darkness will end, and we will come to light. And that’s exactly where you come to help.”

Bill had learned a lot of old magic in his training, yet every wizarding family always had some deep knowledge to share with its children. He had learned much from his parents and his father’s grave voice was echoing in his mind. When a wizard saves another wizard’s life, that creates a bond between them. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he could still see her, beautiful and ageless, sitting primly in front of him in the bare room, amused by his antics and predatory at the same time. He lowered his head.

“Whatever you need, I’ll do it, Mrs Potter.”

She beckoned him with a gesture and he got closer. She gestured again and Bill awkwardly kneeled in front of her, his new left hand grasping the tie he had done on the sheet, hoping it wouldn’t slide off. Her hand was warm and gentle on his face.

“For a moment you died, in the desert. I’ve brought you back to life, but your old bounds haven’t followed you, William. Gringotts won’t know, but your oaths are gone now. Tell me, what do the goblins do with the treasure in the tombs?”

“The valuables they like, they keep. Other things they auction in very restricted events. How could I tell you that? Oh, the oath is gone. Right. I… I feel tired, Mrs Potter…”

“There is a lot to do before laying down tonight, William. When you get back to Gringotts, you will tell no one of our encounters. I buried the bodies in the sand and vanished your lost limbs and blood. You were the only survivor. You won’t speak about the broken oaths and will act as they were in place, even outside the bank. Only to me you will reveal the secrets you were sworn to keep. You will tell me in advance about every auction: where will it happen? Who is coming? And, more importantly, what’s going to be auctioned. In two weeks, I’ll send you a secure communication method, you’ll use only it to speak to me. Also, I want a list of the usual goers on those auctions. Do you still know how to copy protected documents?”

“How do you know…”

“I have some ears at Hogwarts, and your ability to break copyright spells was what brought you the goblins’ attention, wasn’t it? I want you to create copies of every ancient document you come across in your expeditions. Every knowledge, no matter how small, is a weapon against the Dark Lord. For the life I saved, I ask you this.”

There was magic in the air, ancient magic. Bill was very tuned to that kind of thing. He could ask for an alternative, he could even outright refuse and hope she killed him in a more merciful way than dying limbless in the sand. But… His family had lost so much to the Dark Lord and Bill had seen how little the things had changed after his fall. Slytherins still hurled insults to muggleborns and half-bloods in the corridors, Snape had started to terrorize the dungeons and protect the little monsters… So much blood spilt and yet those things walked free because they had money and status. He remembered that night, that long night of crying purple eyes. He would do anything to change that world. 

“I swear, Mrs Potter.”

Her smile was gentle, like a mother. Something fluttered inside of him, something that he had reserved only for purple eyes and Hogwarts nights under the full moon. He felt the heat rising from his cheeks, like a firstie holding hands with a girl for the first time. The corners of her mouth twitched, as if she could hear his shameful thoughts.

“You know, Slytherin spoiled the snake symbol for us, but here, in Egypt, they have another view about it. I personally always loved snakes, didn’t you know? They are so… beautiful and majestic.”

Something shifted under her right sleeve, and the cloth bulged as if she had grown another arm inside it. Something hissed loud, and he felt petrified, stuck kneeling in front of her. His eyes trailed the moving thing until a ruby-red snakehead popped from her cuff. A green forked tongue tasted the air, and tiny emerald beads looked up, to his face. Bill felt sweat running on his back. Lily’s ruby lips parted again to speak.

“For me, snakes are a bond. The bridge between sin and redemption, between life and death, between man and goddess. And now, Willian Weasley, the snake will be the bond between you and me.”

It lurched forwards, and he screamed.

Four hours later, she took him outside the tent and pushed two backpacks on his hands. He was dressed only in a long hooded cloak, made for the desert, and transfigured boots. They were tight and uncomfortable but would last for a good while. The sun was rising on the horizon. He could see the tomb from the tent, but the sand around it was undisturbed. He had tied a strip of cloth, ripped from the sheet, around his right forearm, over the burning. He could feel something coiling under the skin. His heart was breaking at their parting.

“You need to use the _point me_ charm every half hour, and keep going north, following the wand tip. The sands are perverse and can trick the traveller, always check the position before advancing. The goblin settlement is roughly 25 miles from here. In the first backpack are the supplies you guys brought here, try to conserve as much water as possible as there isn’t much. Only eat at night, and don’t make fire before warding the resting place against animals. The other backpack has some of the most interesting treasure found in the tomb after I took my pick.”

He opened it, and there were gold and papyrus inside.

“Completing your mission even after the death of your team will make the goblins look at you with new eyes. Don’t disappoint them, or else you’ll disappoint me. Remember about your mission and never forget about what happened with the ward. You have good instincts, William, trust them and you will live a long life. And now, you need to go.”

She pecked his cheek and pushed him weakly. He stumbled at first but started to walk on the shifting sands. He looked back, but couldn’t see the tent, probably he was already outside the wards. He was alone, in the desert, trying to survive so he could go back home. Bill felt lonely, for maybe the first time in his life. Something shifted under his skin and he cradled the wrapped arm.

A bond between man and Goddess. Well, at least it felt better than his previous bonds to the goblins. Under the inclement sun, he walked north, feeling as many men before, who had found eternal salvation in the desert. 

* * *

Cassie was in trouble. Well, it was nothing new, but this time she had screwed it up from top to bottom. She shifted in her place, scrubbing the tip of her ripped All-Star on the carpet. Her eyes were down, her whole demeanour meek and contrite. She knew she wasn’t fooling her mom, but it was the proper protocol for that kind of thing. It was three days before Harry’s 11th birthday, his letter would come at any moment. If he got grounded because of her, she would have screwed it up perfectly. 

And he would, she could see it from his pose. His body screamed apologizes, all of them in her stead. He always put himself in trouble to alleviate her burden. He would do it again, she knew, he would shift all the blame to himself. And, this time, with a bloodied nose and ripped jacket, he wouldn’t have to do much to convince them.

They heard Lily’s car smashing gravel outside. A door slammed twice and thin heels clapped against the porch. The front knob twirled and her second mother walked inside the house, her brow slightly furrowed. Silently, she pecked her mom’s black lips and stood beside her, crossing her arms and staring at them. She smelled nice, something like flowers. Cassie hated when she angered Lily. Her mom was great and lovingly with her, but mom Lily was soft and warm, with bear hugs that made her little ribs crack painfully sometimes. Disappointing her was worse than being gutted and have her intestines curled around her so she could be used as a yo-yo. Well, she never had been gutted before, but the films made it look very gruesome and painful. 

Thinking about her mom’s films made her remember she had watched one of them after everybody went to sleep and she sneaked downstairs. Thinking about _that_ made her remember mom Lily could read minds, all the time. The redhead’s brow furrowed further. Oh, crap.

“Language, Cassiopeia Lily Black” mom Lily admonished. Mindreading was _so_ unfair! “Well, you will be happy to know the Piers boy survived.”

Harry sighed beside her, but she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Unfortunately, her mom saw it.

“Cassiopeia! You should be ashamed!”

“Oh, come on! _Nobody_ likes Piers, not even his own mom! She wouldn’t even notice he died, as long as Peter was around.”

“That’s not the point here!” Mom started, her black hair whipping from side to side. She had forbidden Cassie to shave her left side of the head, at least until Hogwarts. She pondered if that little _incident_ would affect her prospects for a navel piercing on her 11th birthday… “You almost killed the boy for no damn reason!”

Lily pursed her lips, she really hated swear words, but they had a deal not to reprimand each other in front of the children. Cassie knew they had a lot of deals like that, like never having sex in front of them, or sending them to batty old Figg when they held little parties or had business partners in or when it was their birthdays and they would go to London to party the night away. She hated the old squib but… well, she had a thing for her cute kittens. Harry would always say he didn’t mind and even _listened_ to the same old stories about them. But, well, Harry was nice to _anybody_. Even to her, who always get him in trouble.

She deserved a good spanking, and would even accept it gladly if he could be sent away scot free. But, well, their moms stopped spanking her when she got old enough to stop fearing the pain and started enjoying it. Lily was having trouble keeping her “scolding face” instead of blowing up in laughter. Cassie tried to keep her mind clear and passive, but probably it was too late.

“He was killing Harry! I had to do something!”

All eyes shifted to Harry, who looked a little bit ashamed of it all. His nose was still bleeding and seemed crooked. Cassie hoped it would not stay like that forever, like Dumbledore’s. Harry was too handsome for a crooked nose. Maybe a dragon-fang scar, like three twin slashes over his face. That would make him even more manly! Well, she would be in trouble then. He made her heart flutter just by being her kind older brother, what would happen to her if he was _more_ manly? She would probably drop her knickers right there. Well, maybe then he would get a hint. Huh… She could try it before he left for Hogwarts. Better, she could sneak one of her used ones into his trunk. With a letter, so he wouldn’t just think his mom had been distracted when packing underwear for him. Sometimes the boy could be _so dense_. Lily cleaned her throat. Clear mind, passive mind, clear mind, passive mind.

“Piers was talking trash about Krystal Weedon, I just wanted to make him shut up.”

“Krystal?” Cassie hurled at him. Her nice train of thought had been interrupted by that name. “Piers Polkiss broke your nose because you were trying to defend _Krystal_?”

“Who is Krystal Weedon?” Bellatrix asked. Harry opened his mouth, but Cassie was faster.

“She is the whore of sixth grade! I can’t believe you got decked by a _muggle_ to defend her damn _reputation_ ,” Mom looked like trying to interject something, but Cassie cut her. “I hope you are not making her feel _special_ just because you made her suck your dick, Potter. I’m sure it wasn’t her first.”

“You made her…?”

“I didn’t make anyone do anything,” Harry assured his mother. Goddamn, his smug look made Cassie want to break his jaw to go with the nose. “They keep offering.”

“They” mouthed Bellatrix, looking even smugger than Harry himself. Yeah, yeah, be proud of her little stud. 

“So you fought the boy, after class. And he broke your nose? And how Cassie was involved in it all?”

“Oh, please. He wasn’t fighting. He was _getting his arse handed to him_ ,” three scolding faces looked at her, but she marched on. She was screwed already, what would be a match for someone already on fire? “Piers dropped him on the ground and was using his face as a punching bag when I arrived. That’s how I got _involved_.”

“And you…?”

“Well,” Cassie wasn’t ashamed of the act per se, she was ashamed of getting in trouble because of it. Lily looked like she had read and underlined that thought. Mindreading really was unfair. “I strangled him.”

“Strangled…?”

“With my shoelaces. From behind. He was getting to a very interesting shade of blue before the teachers found me.”

Was there a hint of pride in her mom’s eyes? Clean mind, passive mind, she couldn’t keep Piers’ gaping fish routine from her mind eye.

Lily rubbed a hand over her own tired eyes. She sighed. Then she looked at her wife/chew toy/sub. Oh, the things Cassie had heard by accident, when she pressed her ear to their door in the middle of the night. After disabling the silencing wards. And the proximity wards. And the age line. She was very prone to accidents.

“Uh, well. You are grounded.”

“She was grounded already. Remember, Bella? For the food fight. And, before that, for tricking the Langtry’s boy out of his entire savings. And, _before that_ , for running Mrs Figg over with her bike, breaking her leg.”

“That was an accident! I told you already!”

“Well, the grounding thing isn’t working, that’s my point. I hate to take over Bella to discipline you, but this time you went too far. I’m going to hire a governess to educate you into a proper lady.”

“ _No!_ ”

“That’s my final word. I already had someone in mind. She will shape you from the ground up, Cassiopeia. In no time, your tomboy phase will be over.”

Cassie wished she could sign herself for the gutting. It would be less painful and a lot less gruesome too.

“And you! Fighting like a thug! Didn’t I teach you to resolve your problems with wit and words? How witty do you think it is to brawl on the ground of the schoolyard? I sure hope you don’t act like that at Hogwarts. If they call me because you were caught roaming the corridors in the middle of the night or throwing spells in the halls…!”

“Don’t worry, mom. I won’t be caught.”

Bella couldn’t help but guffaw. Lily snorted and rolled her eyes, all the anger vanishing from her instance.

“I got something this morning. I was planning for us to go to Fortescue’s for a commemorative sundae but, with all of this, it’s too late now. Congratulations, Harry. You are a wizard now.”

From her bag, she retrieved a thick yellow envelope, made of parchment and addressed in green ink. Harry whooped and Cassie laughed, both kids almost piling up their redhead mother to read the letter. Cassie felt a pang of pain in her heart but pushed it down ruthlessly. She was happy for Harry. She was fine. She wouldn’t miss him at all. In fact, she was even going to ask for his bedroom as soon as he was gone, she would move all her things to the bigger room and cram his in the smallest bedroom. Or even convert his bedroom into a game room and toss everything in the trash. He would sleep on the sofa during the summer. Or she would be kind enough to give in a corner of her own bed. And she would sleep with his arms holding her, so she would feel safe and happy…

Both her mothers embraced her, their arms circling her shivering body. Harry was over her, kissing gently her tears. 

“I’ll be back for Yule, you won’t even miss me. And I’ll write home every day, you’ll have so much trouble trying to read my chicken scrawl that I’ll be back before you finish reading the last one!”

She punched him in the stomach, lightly.

“Stupid. Get off me. You can’t even beat down a muggle.”

Harry laughed. He was handsome even with a broken nose, her big brother and his infinite kindness.

Lily took him to the kitchen, and her mother closed the door silently before kneeling in front of her. She was eight now and tall for her age, Black genes making sure she would be willowy and gorgeous just like her grandmother, or aunt Cissy. She had seen the woman on photos, and except for the eyes and hair colour, they were exactly the same. She just wished she would grow her mother’s tits, for aunt Cissy had almost nothing in that department. She knew Harry liked big ones, just like their mothers or Polkiss’. The woman was completely different after installing her fake plastic juggs, looking down on everybody except when bent under Bella’s body. 

“Cassie,” mom never called her that, except when she were very little. She felt like a child, so it was okay for now. “I know things will be difficult with Harry gone, but I want you to know you don’t have to weather it alone. You can always talk to me and Lily when things get rough. You are my precious Black Princess, I’ll move mountains to make you happy, don’t you know it?”

She nodded, something hard blocking her throat. Stupid throat. Stupid Harry. She wouldn’t miss him a bit. Her mother circled her with her inked arms and Cassie cried a little bit more. She would be strong for Harry and not miss him not even for a second. Later. For now, she needed her mom to say everything would be fine.

“I’ll make sure the governess won’t be _too_ strict.”

Cassie laughed at that. 

“We are okay, then?” 

“Course not, you are still grounded. And I’m sure you will be pumped full of etiquette lessons until you become a more civilized little monkey. But everything will be fine. And I’ll kick his ass if he forgets to write you.”

“You will?” 

“I’ll make that broken nose look like a mild nuisance in front of what I will do to him. So, I’m sure Lily lied through her teeth and has some Fortescue’s under preservation charms in that bag of hers. How about we go check it out? And, tonight, you choose the film.”

“Even a horror one?”

“I’ve just bought _Freddy’s Dead: Final Nightmare_. They say will be the last one.”

Cassie smiled wide, taking her mom’s hand. She needed to properly congratulate Harry. And she needed to sneak some underwear on his trunk. With a proper letter, so he wouldn’t be confused by it. 

“Do you believe it will really be the last?”

“Not even for a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some troubles with my internet connection (as in, I forgot to pay for it and they cut my connection off), so I could only post the chapter today. Hopefully I'll be able to post the next one normally on Monday!
> 
> Now, this time we finally had some Harry Potter! Yes, Lily and Bella still took a good chunk of the chapter, but Harry's infancy was necessary. We need to establish some differences. I had other bits I wanted to show, but they didn't fit the feeling of the chapter, so I cut them off. Probably they will appear in dialogue, as I'm not a fan of flashbacks.
> 
> Cassie's plight with her governess will appear in the "Adult Cast" chapters, the ones where we can see what Bella and Lily (and others) are up to. Next chapter will have Hogwarts (I decided to skip the Diagon Alley visit, as it's unnecessary, details will be provided on the story flow). 
> 
> So, 'till next chapter and please send me your opinions!


	4. Anodos - Part IV

King’s Cross was bustling with activity, as every 1st of September. Among the muggles going to and from work, the travelers and overwhelmed tourists, the teenagers gathering before or after class, the street performers, mendicants and easygoing strollers, a wizard could hide himself in plain sight. And a dead woman could walk freely in the land of the living.

Harry knew his mom’s situation was _complicated_. He was four when he was seated for his first version of the _Legend of Saint Lily and the Boy-Who-Lived_. She had called it that, and it took years for him to know that there really was a book carrying that title. It was, probably, when people started calling his mom “Saint Lily”. Then, he learned that a very bad man had robbed his daddy from him, that’s why every other kid had a daddy while he didn’t. He learned his mommy had been sick for some time after that, and mom Bella had helped Lily get better again and they all lived happily in the muggle world so the people from the bad man wouldn’t find them. They had revisited that story every year, adding more details, like his miraculous survival, Lily’s preparations that saved his life, her own preparations to save herself, Bella’s role in it all. He had learned about his own moniker in the wizarding world, the legend spread far and wide about a boy who had survived certain death. 

In a way, his entire life had been a long preparation for that moment, the moment the lost son of the wizarding world came back home. But, on the other hand, he was completely out of his depth and alone, for the first time in his life. Even with the many missions his mothers attended, there was always someone to hear about his troubles, congratulate him on something well done, teach him where he was doing it wrong. 

Worse yet, Cassie would stay. That gut-wrenching feeling had followed him since his letter arrived, getting worse and worse as his trunk filled. She was putting a brave face, even there at the station but he could feel the sadness rolling away from her like steam waves. Not for the first time, he wondered what would happen if he hid her in his trunk and took her to Hogwarts with him. She could live under his bed and he could feed her scraps. 

Well, she probably would hate it even more than parting.

As they came closer to the column between platforms 9 and 10, the muggles were dwindling and more wizards could be seen. The strange collection of mismatched outfits, color clashes and crossdressing was very obvious. Harry had to stomp down his urge to laugh when a very serious-looking Pureblood type brushed against him in his hurry, his embroidered camisole flapping wildly around his ankles. The matching frilly cap almost broke the dam, but he held firmly. Cassie, on the other hand, had no such qualms and guffawed loudly when she saw him, making their mothers clamp her hands over her little mouth and hiss scoldings directly in her ears. Ah, Harry would miss her so much.

His trolley touched the column but instead of crashing, it went straight through. He had never been to the station before and Harry felt that gut-warming wonder at that gorgeous display of cleverly hidden magic, the same feeling he had every time they visited Diagon Alley and opened the entrance. He sadness ebbed a little as his mind wandered towards all kind of incredible magic he would find at Hogwarts.

At the hidden platform, mom Bella’s outfit was gathering a lot of attention. She didn’t seem to mind a bit, in fact he could see she was thrusting her chest forward and bending a little bit at the waist so she could give some older students an eyeful of her milky cleavage. She usually wore strapless shirts so her huge tattoo of a pair of guns pointing diagonally downwards on her chest could be seen entirely. Cassie loved that tattoo more than most, as she always had found guns to be wicked. The boys blushed fiercely and walked away awkwardly, bending forwards as if to hide something. Bella smirked.

“If you are done doing _this_ , we can send our son off…” hissed his mother menacely. Her partner smirked even more. Mom Lily could be very possessive sometimes. 

Two perfumed arms snaked around his chest and his mother rested her chin on the top of his head. While Harry was slightly tall for his age, he felt very much like a small child then, long red hair hiding his face. She pressed a kiss on his head and tightened her grip. He wiggled until he could turn around and hug her properly, his face finding the perfect place between her breasts. She smelled like flowers and something smoky, like burning wood. She sniffed loudly, his beautiful mom. How could he break her heart like so? How could he leave her behind? She pressed him against her chest one last time, before letting him go.

“Now, now, there is nothing to be sad about,” she said, but her slightly hoarse voice betrayed her words. “You’ll be home so soon! So, have a lot of fun, take care and try to make some friends, okay? I’ll like all of them, even the strange ones.”

Harry laughed and nodded, feeling his throat too dry to speak. Bella captured him a lot more roughly, peppering kisses on his face and neck, ruffling his hair and doing her best to make him blush. Harry had planned for days for that exact moment, so he squirmed away from her grip, grinned and gave her a quick peck on her pierced lips, making her stiffen up in surprise.

“That’s for you to remember me by, little Bella,” he said, doing his best to imitate the husky voice his mom used against the woman when they were being exceptionally frisky. Her eyes were wide as saucers, while Lily started to laugh. She took her partner in her arms, kissing her neck and taking a little bite, making Bella yelp.

“Bad Harry, trying to steal my girl. Go find one for yourself!”

Harry gave her his best smile.

“I won’t be pleased with only one. Expect a lot of letters home, come here Cassie, I want a hug!”

Cassie tried to fight, just to keep character but quickly caved in and hugged her brother the tightest he had ever been hugged. He ruffled her hair, kissed her head crown and finished his goodbyes. When he started to push the trolley away, Cassie seemed to remember something and run towards him, pushing something in his hands.

“That’s for you to remember _me_ by, Little Harry,” she was _a lot_ better at making that voice than him. He shivered slightly but she just smiled mysteriously at him, before turning back and walking towards their moms. Shaking his head to dispel strange thoughts, he pushed the trolley towards the train door, lifted the trunk from it and embarked, one of the station staff taking his abandoned trolley away.

The Hogwarts Express was very luxurious as if made for royalty instead of simple students. The rosewood panelling and golden accents were very tasteful, and the wide corridors made it easy to walk while seeking a compartment. They had come very early but the station and the train were quickly becoming packed. He couldn’t even imagine the nightmare it would be to arrive just before departure.

The first carriage was full but he found a good compartment right at the beginning of the second one. There was a girl inside, reading a book, wearing muggle clothing. She looked around his age and he really wanted to make friends as soon as possible, so he knocked gently on the glass. Her head whipped up, startled from her reading. Harry gave her his best smile while sliding the door open.

“Hello! May I seat here? Everything else is full already!”

“Oh, I don’t mind!” She seemed a little awkward by his invasion but her tentative smile was inviting. Harry assumed she wasn’t too used to people suddenly talking to her.

He lifted the trunk and slid it in the overhead rack, before smiling again at her, wiping his hands on his jeans. The girl smiled back but kept her lips tightly shut. Maybe she was wearing braces and felt ashamed about it? 

“Ah, five minutes away from home and my manners are already flying off the window,” he sighed, extending his hand. “The name is Harry, nice to meet you!”

“Likewise,” answered her, relaxing at his introduction. “I’m Hermione.”

“Ah, your parents must love Shakespeare. It’s a beautiful name, fit for a queen, uh?”

Hermione’s smile widened, and he finally could see some teeth. She wasn’t wearing braces but her front teeth were a little larger than usual. Her big wild bushy hair and petite frame made her look younger than him but she had sharp eyes and the book she had been reading wasn’t on the list for Hogwarts (and was quite the advanced potion book, from his quick peek at the title). Her blush at just his praise for her name was unbearably cute. 

“You are the first one to recognize it”

“Mom loves to read and my house is full of books. She made sure I was taught the classics, from both worlds. Here!”

He opened the window and searched for his mom. Between her vibrant red hair and Bella’s tall and dark figure, it was quick for him to find her. He pointed them to Hermione and waved happily to his family. Cassie spotted him and smiled wide, hopping in place while waving back.

“That’s my sister Cassie, the redhead is my adoptive mom, she’s the one that loves books, and the dark haired one is my other adoptive mom. They are both witches.”

Cassie’s antics had caught Lily’s attention and the woman was now waving at him too, smiling wildly. Bella was a lot more composed but seemed amused by the redhead’s exuberance. It was rare for Lily to act so freely in public but the whole sending her son to Hogwarts made her look like a child high on sugar.

“She must be impressed I’ve made my first witch friend already,” Harry commented, sliding back to his seat. Hermione seemed shocked by his words before her face split in an ear-to-ear smile. Harry laughed at it, the girl looked surprised at how easy it had been to make a friend. Harry assumed it was a first for her.

“You have a really pretty smile, you know,” She blushed to her hair roots again, making him laugh louder. “Oh, don’t look like that, I only like to say the truth when I see it.”

“So, you have two mothers…” she quickly changed topics. A loud whistle drowned Harry’s words, and the train lurched forward abruptly. Catching himself, Harry remembered he had something in his left hand, something Cassie had given him. Hermione was distracted by the train movement, her nose glued to the window, he discreetly opened his hand and took a peek.

A lacy, child-sized pair of racy knickers peeked back at him.

Hermione turned back to him when he roughly shoved the ‘gift’ in his pocket. Damn Cassie, she really needed to stop trying to prank him. He smiled at Hermione, who smiled back and returned to her window gazing. 

“My parents were wizards who died in the wizarding war,” he answered her previous question. “I was adopted by my current mother and her partner. I… Well, I hope you don’t have anything…”

“Oh, no! No! I really can’t see any problem with… two people from the same sex,” her wild hair flew from side to side as she shook her head in negation. “There is nothing wrong with it and I really can’t understand why some people think differently. So, you have a sister too? I couldn’t see them properly…”

“Yes! Cassie is my younger sister. Well, she is Bella’s daughter, so we aren’t related by blood but we’ve lived together as a family since I remember. What about you, any siblings?”

Hermione shook her head again.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents don’t have magic, they are dentists. It was quite the surprise when Professor McGonagall came to our home with the letter. I’ve been dying for this day ever since!”

“My mom is a muggleborn too, she always talks about how frightened her parents were by the whole witch thing before they got used to it. My other mom is a Pureblood and we lived in the muggle world, so I’m practically half-and-half.”

Hermione looked delighted at it.

“Oh, you must have such a refreshing perspective of the wizarding world, then! I had almost a year to study before coming to Hogwarts and it’s hard to find someone who shares the background. I was really excited at first because it’s… _magic_ , you know? But, after reading many history books and following the day-to-day procedures of the Ministry of Magic I can’t help but wonder why is the wizarding world so…—“

“Infuriating? Backwards? Stuck in time?” Harry helpfully added and she shyly nodded. “Well, it’s a very difficult question, one that puzzles our best thinkers but also one that tricks muggleborns year after year.”

“What?”

“For someone born in the fast-paced ever-evolving muggle world, wizarding society seems frozen in time. Things take decades to change if they change at all. However, the idea we are stuck in the dark ages is false and misleading. Wizarding society is always evolving, like any other, but we can’t present the novelty and wonder of our changes like muggles can. Mom saw man walk on the moon and would rant about how little time had passed between it and the first flying aeroplane. Looking like that, we seen backwards, but it’s a biased comparison. It took twenty-seven years between the first experiment using fire travel and the establishment of the whole Floo Network, and that network has been in use for almost four hundred years now. While we can’t show flashy improvements like muggles can, wizards have been improving the network since its first use. Likewise, we made parchment mass-production feasible and vastly improved our wands, potions and spells. Magical development happens as quickly as muggle science and the simple _lumus_ spell we learn in first year is an incredible advance if we compare with light magic from two or three hundred years ago.”

Hermione seemed almost entranced by his explanation.

“Wizards also outperformed the muggle world in a lot of aspects. We have no illiteracy, no hunger and our last incurable disease, Dragon Pox, was completely eradicated in our world. Of course, our government is ridden with corruption, racism runs rampant and two wars very close one to the other almost decimated our population. However, while the wizarding world has lots of problems, the idea we are a backwards society stuck in the Middle Ages is very, very far from reality. Wizards have their own culture, values and history and most muggleborns don’t understand that we can’t simple _import_ muggle culture as if we were patching a hole on a robe. If you keep that in mind, however, your assessment of this new world will be way deeper and valuable than most.”

Hermione seemed to ponder his allegations for a while and Harry quietly waited for her. She shook her head, finally.

“I see I still have a lot to learn. Thank you, Harry.”

“No, thank _you_ , Hermione. I wanted someone my own age to talk about this kind of things for a very long time. I think we will have a very productive friendship.”

She smiled wide at that.

“Also, in the hols, I will introduce you to my mother. I think you will bond quickly over your background and opinions, she has a lot of ideas and has been looking for an unbiased ear to discuss some things.”

“Will she want to hear the opinions of a little girl?”

“A little girl? Probably she will hear out, but not give it much thought. But the opinions of a rational, bright young witch? I have no doubt.”

“…I would love to be your friend, Harry.”

“Likewise, Hermione. Now, what are you reading? Advanced Potions, uh? I tried helping with potions sometimes, but I feel that’s a talent that skipped my generation.”

Hermione started to tell him how she had brewed some simple potions, for experimentation, but they weren’t quite right. She suspected the problem was with her stove, as it was a lot more imprecise than a potioneer’s brewer.

“Can you use magic inside your home?”

“Well, as we can’t buy a wand before getting our Hogwarts letter, I was taught using other means, so I only did very simple magic, something we can’t even call a spell. Another person’s wand won’t work for you, even if it’s your mother’s. My sister Cassie learned it the hardest way when she lost her hair.”

“She lost her hair?”

“Yes! She filched her mother’s wand and tried to make her hair orange using a simple colour changing charm, first year stuff. The wand rebelled, of course, and instead of colouring, all her hair fell from her head. She was completely bald. Her scream awoke the entire street.”

Hermione was laughing at Cassie’s poor fate.

“I bet your mother wasn’t pleased.”

“Well, I got there first and hid the wand. Said we were fighting and my accidental magic did that to her. As I had just turned my teacher’s wig blue the week before, I think they believed me. Mom brewed a potion that grew her hair back just as it was.”

“You shifted the blame on you? And lied to your mothers?”

Harry shrugged.

“While she had done something bad, I couldn’t help but save her from trouble. Also, losing all her hair had already been punishment enough. Also, her crying face was too cute.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at his feeble excuses.

“You sound just like my father, he acts as if I were his perfect angel. You look like you dote on your sister too much.”

“What can I do? I can’t resist helping a cute girl.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that!”

The door slid open as the new voice butted in their conversation. There was a short redhead girl with a big smile on the door, her face glowing in happiness and her blue eyes sparkling. She was clutching her trunk’s handle in her hand.

“We were kicked out of our compartment and were searching for a new one, I’m so happy you can’t resist helping us, how about giving me a hand with this thing, sweetie?”

“Do you have flowers for a brain?” A cold, harsh voice sounded behind the bubbly redhead, and a small pale hand shoved her aside. At their doorway, stood a tall, willowy blonde girl, her sleek golden hair perfectly framing a beautiful, statuesque face with high cheekbones, cold blue eyes and pouty lips. “Can’t you see you are bothering her with your rudeness? I beg your pardon for this oaf’s actions. However, what she said is true: we don’t have a compartment anymore and we are looking for a new one. My name is Daphne Greengrass and this is Susan Bones. May we share this trip with you, please?”

Harry looked at Hermione, as it was her compartment in the first place. She looked awkward again by the sudden interruption but plastered her best tight-lipped smile.

“Yes, please, come in. I am Hermione Granger, nice to meet you.” 

Harry stood and took Susan’s trunk from her, lifting it to place the heavy thing on the overhead rack.

“I’m Harry, nice to meet you. Here, Ms Greengrass, let me take this.”

“Thank you, and Daphne is fine, please.”

“Feel free to call me Hermione, then.”

Daphne took a sit beside Hermione like a perfect pureblood lady, her long muggle dress tucked under her and her ankles crossed to the side, perfectly manicured hands folded on her lap. Susan, however, invaded the compartment, rushing to the window and glueing her nose on the glass.

“Lookie, Daph, it’s the countryside! The countryside!”

Daphne, unfazed and emotionless, turned to Hermione, who seemed a lot out of her depth with everything happening. She looked like she had thought that would be a safe, quiet trip.

“Susan is really excited with everything, she lived in London all her life and hardly left home during infancy.”

“I see.” Hermione was desperate for some change of topic, so Harry decided to help her.

“You were kicked out your compartment? Why?”

“We were sharing one with a couple of second years Susan knew but they were too eager to please some seniors and _generously_ offered our seats for them to take.”

“Bunch of bootlickers” Susan helpfully added, taking a sit between the window and Harry. She was wearing a jacket too big for her small frame and from under it she took out a rolled magazine. As it was too large to fit in some hidden pocket, Harry had a suspicious she had tucked it inside her left sleeve before.

“Well, we went to some other first years but they were too occupied running and horsing around to notice us. So we came all the way here, looking for a quieter environment.”

“Running in the corridor? Shouldn’t we call a Prefect?”

Harry thought Hermione would have a very cold reception if she were to snitch people in her first hour at Hogwarts.

“Don’t you worry, Hermione. I already did that.”

“You know people won’t like you if you keep reporting them already on your first day.”

_Thank you, Susan,_ Harry thought. _You look crazy but you have a good head on your shoulders._

“The riffraff’s opinions about be are irrelevant,” informed Daphne. Hermione seemed to agree with the sentiment but made a face at the slur. Susan, however, was already engrossed with her magazine.

Finding some common ground in Daphne’s harsh views about propriety and decorum, Hermione stuck some tentative conversation with the blonde beauty, while Susan happily alternated between the magazine and the window. Harry took a paperback from his pocket and started reading but kept a listening ear in Hermione and Daphne’s conversation.

“So, how do the two of you met?”

That was an interesting question, as both girls were as different as fire and ice.

“Susan’s mother and my mother were sisters. Lady Bones died in the war along with her husband.”

Hermione gasped softly, covering her mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Susan.”

Her smile faltered a bit, but the bubbly redhead quickly recovered.

“Thanks, Hermione. I was just a baby, so I don’t remember much about them. I live with my Auntie Amelia now, but Auntie Ophelia invites me over a lot. Daphne and I were together since we were babies. We are besties.”

“What she means is I try to keep her out of trouble since before we learned how to walk,” Daphne’s expressionless face made the statement even funnier, and Harry and Susan laughed at it, while Hermione tried to reign in her own smile. Susan stuck her tongue at Daphne, who rolled her eyes dismissively. With personalities so unlike, the girls seemed to have a very affectionate bond between them.

“Do you want something to eat, dearies?”

Harry inspected the cart with a critical eye. As a child wizard living in muggle territory, he had tasted every single of those sweets but not often. Away from home for the first time in his life, he knew the candy cart was a difficult test of character for unsupervised children. A little of everything or too much of only one thing? He decided to exercise his newfound independence by taking the safest route and bought a lot of everything.

“You intend to eat _all_ that?” Susan's voice cut through him. He smiled.

“I intended to share some with my new friends.”

“Ohh, I think I fell in love with you, at first sight, Harry.”

While it had been difficult to convince well-behaved Hermione and Daphne to accept some, Susan gladly dug in his pile of sweets, munching away a liquorice wand. Daphne nibbled slowly on a seemly normal dark chocolate bar, while Hermione found her One True Love on her first Cauldron Cake. Harry took one of the chocolate frogs from the pile.

“Is it… alive?” Hermione asked, glancing at the squirming little guy in his hand.

“It’s just an animation charm. Wanna try one?”

He bit the head of the frog, who immediately came still. Hermione’s disgusted expression told it all.

“I don’t like sweet things too much, my parents taught me too much sugar rots your teeth,” the fact she was stuffing her face with her third Cauldron Cake notwithstanding. “So, Daphne, about what you were saying before…—“

“Nooo!” Susan exclaimed abruptly, startling the girls and make Harry jump and drop his Dumbledore card. She was holding her magazine open on some random article. She turned it around to shove the page on Daphne’s face. “The Weird Sisters are breaking up!”

While Harry had heard about the famous wizarding band, Lily never liked wizarding music except for classical (a lot of muggle composers were, in fact, wizards, so classical music was something shared between the two worlds) and Bella liked only punk fashion, having no interest in music. Hermione looked totally confused and Daphne was unfazed by her cousin’s antics.

“What are the Weird Sisters?”

“What! It’s the band to outplay all the bands! Two thousand records sold in a day! The band that needs no introduction: the Weird Sisters!”

“You don’t like music, Daphne?” 

“Oh, I have no interest for these modern noises, Hermione. I had a traditional education, so my musical interests lie on the classical: Beethoven, Wagner, Tchaikovsky, Pink Floyd…”

“Pink…? Like _The Dark Side of the Moon_?”

Daphne’s perfectly eyebrows arched in surprise.

“I thought you were a common muggleborn, but you have a great grasp of wizarding classical music, I see.”

“But Pink…—“

“Whatever, whatever, Daph likes boring music. But this! This!” Susan interrupted, shoving the magazine on Hermione’s lap. A photograph spread on the two pages, depicting four lanky young wizards, dressed in a very interesting fashion. Tattered and ripped short robes and skin-tight dragon leather pants, huge hairdos and tall top hats, big glass goggles decorating them resting on the brims, long smoking pipes dangling from their lips. Each one looked exactly the same as the others. Big purple flashing letters proclaimed _The Dream is Over!_

“So, hum, who are they, Susan? Like, what’s his name?”

“Oh, yes. Well, this is Johnny B. This on at his side is Johnny C. This one is Johnny D. And this one is BlackStar”

“How consistent” snarked Daphne. Harry tried hard to swallow his laugh. Hermione, her mouth twitching, valiantly tried to march along with the topic.

“So, it says here one of them wants to go solo to preserve his individuality as an artist… I assume BlackStar decided to leave the band?” 

“No, no. It was Johnny D., he has always been the individualistic one.”

“That’s,” said Daphne, her emotionless mask under heavy pressure. “The most retarded thing…—“

“Oh, Harry, give me one of those!” Interrupted Hermione, louder than needed, defusing the argument before it could even start and snatched one of his Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans just before he could pop it into his mouth. “I never had one of those before. It’s like those sweets you have to guess the taste, huh? Well, it tastes like…” 

Her green face told them it didn’t taste good.

“Judging by the colour,” offered Susan, her trained eye analyzing the half bitten bean in Hermione’s hand. “It’s probably rust.”

Daphne wordlessly passed Hermione a handkerchief for her to spit the bean on. She seemed almost affectionate, giving Hermione some light slaps on her back. 

“Here, try this one, it’s lemon meringue, it will take the bad taste away. Have some pumpkin juice too.”

After Hermione recovered from her ordeal, she took another bean from Harry’s packet, eyeing it suspiciously. She gave a tiny lick with the tip of her tongue.

“Freshly-mowed grass. Wizards are weird.” She popped it in her mouth. “So, do you want to go to some specific House?”

“Oh, I want to be a Hufflepuff,” said Susan, almost bouncing on her seat. “People keep saying we are the failures no other House wanted, but Auntie Amelia is _the_ most incredible person I know and she was one of us. She said Hufflepuff is a great place to make friends and I want a bunch of them!”

“My family have been in Slytherin for generations, so I’m betting I’ll be there too.”

“Is your family history able to influence the decision?”

“Probably not, Hermione, the process is very mysterious. At first, the Founders personally sorted the students, but after their deaths, the sorting method is kept under secret. Tradition dictates you can’t reveal it even to your own children or siblings. Nonetheless, my sister will probably pester me for the next two years after tonight. However, I’ve been taught to think like a Slytherin all my life, so I must possess the skills and personality needed for that House.”

“Do you think it’s some kind of test?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. I think it’s a test,” Harry said. “They will ask us ten questions to determine our personality and we’ll be assigned a House based on your answers.”

“You are joking!” Hermione frowned, but Harry just wanted to tease her a little, so he smiled and went on.

“I’m not joking. I can almost see the questions in my mind. Question One: how do you eat your breakfast? a) With my friends. b) Reading a book. c) Cold and ruthlessly. d) Bravely.”

Hermione tried to get angry at his teasing but laughed in the end. Susan was laughing the hardest.

“How one eats bravely?” 

“That’s why you are not fit to be a Gryffindor, Susan!” Harry proclaimed, two girls laughing, only Daphne to go. “Question Two: what you did last summer? a) Spent time with my friends. b) Slew a dragon. c) Read a hundred books. d) Hid the bodies.”

“So I’ll be in Slytherin if I hid the bodies?” Hermione asked, trying not to laugh at his antics and grandiose moves. To their surprise, it was Daphne that asked.

“No. A true Slytherin would never admit having something to do with the bodies and would mark A, so they would even have an alibi. Only a Hufflepuff would mark D, as they would try to be just and truthful even if they would suffer the repercussions.”

“And that’s why, ladies and… ladies, that the Hogwarts Sorting Test is so deep and reliant.”

“Oh, let me ask Question Three!” Susan said, smiling widely. “Choose one of the following pets to be your familiar…”

As the girls started to play too, he took some parchment from his pocket, a quill and some ink, carefully noting down their best suggestions. Susan, who seemed to be on the same wavelength, started to draw the Hogwarts shield on some other piece of parchment, carefully tracing the lines and writing the motto. They aligned the pages and Harry took his wand from his pocket. The girls watched him carefully. 

He touched the parchment where Susan’s drawing overlapped the first page of questions and performed the seamless binding spell, a simple first year trick for distracted students: if you misspelt a word or dirtied your parchment, rip that part out, touch the seams of two pieces and spell them into a single piece again. He performed the charm twice more, and their list of questions had become a single roll. Susan had written _Hogwarts Sorting Test_ on the top of the parchment. Rolling her eyes at their childish game, Hermione used her own wand and a small spell to animate the drawing, the snake hissing inaudibly to the lion, the badge furrowing around and the eagle flapping its wings. 

“Think we can trick someone into believing this is real?” Harry asked but Daphne cut that idea down immediately.

“Not even a first year is dumb enough to fall for this. Even if they took the parchment, the questions are too ridiculous.”

While Harry pondered his failed-before-even-released prank, the door slid open with a bang. They raised their heads and glanced at the visitors. There was a pale blond boy on the door, his brow furrowed. He was already wearing fine robes, an expression of disdain crawling on his face as he looked at their muggle clothes. Behind him, two big boys were standing, side to side, like miniature bodyguards. As they were too large for boys their age and had a passive look on their faces, Harry couldn’t help but guess they were hired muscle. They frail, pale boy really needed some.

“I’ve heard Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is he here?”

The girls slowly turned to him but Harry only creased his own brow. 

“You were looking for Harry Potter this entire time? You were nothing on your compartment?” 

“What…? I mean…?”

Harry took the rolled parchment from the seat. And opened it to reveal the animated shield and title.

“You didn’t get the Sorting Test from a Prefect? We are almost at Hogwarts and you haven’t even started answering the test! Do you want to get scolded? They won’t assign you a House before you complete it!”

“What! Nobody told me this!”

Harry rolled his eyes emphatically.

“Well, that’s what you got for roaming the corridors looking for some guy. Here, take our extra copy, we already answered ours. As there is no Prefect here and no time to look for one, copy the questions and answers down on some parchment, you can explain it to McGonagall later. Do you guys have a compartment saved for you?”

“Yes! We are going back immediately. We can look for Potter afterwards. If I don’t get sorted into Slytherin just because of this, my father will kill me! Come, Crabble, Goyle, I will use this one and you can copy down my answers.”

Harry closed the door.

“I don’t fucking believe it.”

“Language, Susan” Daphne and Hermione echoed at the same time. Harry was too occupied rolling on the ground, laughing to the point of tears. The blonde sighed, her emotionless expression slipping a little.

“I can’t believe it. I didn’t even have time to react properly, that _boy_ gobbled it all without even thinking!”

“That was Draco Malfoy, wasn’t it?” Susan asked, helping Harry back to his seat. His belly hurt.

“Draco…?” Hermione asked, testing the strange name.

“A pampered brat that thinks himself king just because his father is part of the Board of Governors,” Daphne answered with far more emotion than she had displayed so far. “I don’t believe that _idiot_ is going to try to become Slytherin’s Leader.”

Harry filed that useful information away. Draco’s leadership could damage his plans if he were like the famous Lucius Malfoy. But he had finally met his _cousin_. Harry wished he could see Bellatrix’s face when she read his letter home about how her nephew had been tricked by something so obvious. Maybe he would write Cassie a separate letter.

“He seemed a little… mean.”

“Way more than mean, Hermy. That boy is a menace and is always talking trash about muggleborns and the like. Don’t get near him, he is not worth your time.”

Hermione was mouthing _Hermy_ silently, trying to determine if she should scold Susan for mangling her name. Daphne was staring at him attentively. Her eyes flicked to his forehead for an instant. He tilted his head a little bit, letting the hair slid down and reveal the scar. Her eyes got wide.

“Well, among all that bullshit I said to him, something was true,” Harry said, standing up and ignoring Hermione’s call for proper language. Daphne looked a little dazed. “We are almost at Hogwarts. I’ll stand outside while you girls change. When you are finished, knock on the door.”

He left before the blonde could reveal her new information and laid his back against the closed door. The corridor was empty, save for a single Prefect girl doing rounds. He smiled at her and she returned the smile.

One of the doors at the end of the carriage opened and Draco Malfoy stepped out. Figures he would start searching away from his compartment instead of around him, he probably went all the way to the back of the train and back. The guy looked uncertain for a moment, before turning and striding towards Harry.

“In my hurry, I forgot to thank you for your help. Never say a Malfoy don’t pay his debts. Crabble and Goyle are copying the answers now, so I came to say thanks.”

“You are welcome, Mr Malfoy. We first years only have each other now, in this new school, so we must help when needed.”

“I never got your name…”

“Jason Voorhees,” Harry said, extending his hand and giving Draco’s a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Malfoy, I’ve heard the rumours before, but I’m glad to say you surpassed all of them.”

Draco flashed him a smug smile. The strange surname had thrown him out of the loop. Many foreign students came to Hogwarts (only the rich ones, that’s it). As he didn’t know if _Jason_ was a Pureblood or not, he would bid his time. It was the most Slytherin thing the boy had shown, Harry felt like applauding him. Draco turned back.

“I will leave you now, Mr Voorhees, to see how Crabbe and Goyle are faring. I hope to see you soon, at Hogwarts.”

“Likewise, Mr Malfoy.”

He waited until Malfoy was back at his compartment, before turning and sliding the door, pushing his face inside.

“You girls won’t believe it! He completely fell for…—“

There was a loud _yeep!_ inside. Harry slid his glance downwards a little. 

“Bunny patterned knickers? I thought you were the older one, Herm—“

He closed the door quickly before the hurled spell hit him in the face. The window shattered and his head was covered in glass. There were yelling inside and someone tossed a black robe over the gaping hole. Thinking only about the safety of the girls in such a precarious position, Harry used a spell to glue the door closed. After a simple _reparo_ , the glass was back in its place. Someone was rattling the door from inside.

Harry shoved his hands in his pocket, finding Cassie’s underwear inside. He needed to mail it back to her before someone found it in his things. Or maybe he could discreetly pass it to Hermione, Merlin knows that girl needed some mature knickers. Whistling to himself, Harry walked the corridors of the train, hoping he would be let inside the compartment after some time for the girls to cool down. He hoped they wouldn’t be mad at him for long.

It was nice to have friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped to have more in this chapter, like the arrival at Hogwarts, but there was too much to do and it became long enough as is. I hope you could get a feel about our four character's personalities and had so much fun reading it was I had writing those scenes. Until next week and be sure to write down all your questions, thoughts and suggestions!


	5. Anodos - Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like to post ANs at the beginning of the chapter but I own you all an apology for my sudden disappearance. I had to rewrite a good chunk of my thesis because my Evernote crashed at the same time I lost some files on my computer. However, I still had most of it saved on my e-mail (god bless old-style technology) and could quickly wrap it up once again (after losing some sleep). I finally wrote everything up, overcame the incredible hurdle that is University Bureaucracy™ and I'm free until the end of December. So, I'll try to speed up things a little for us, posting another chapter this week and two or three more each week until we get back on track. Thank you for your patience and for believing in this story, and specially thank you all who reviewed, kudo'ed and bookmarked Thesmophoria. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please check out the end-of-chapter notes for some talk about my goals with this chapter.

The train whistled thrice before finally stopping at Hogsmeade Station. At that, all the doors opened by themselves and the bustling of activity drowned any conversation. Harry carefully picked all the trash in their compartment and stuffed it in his pocket. A disembodied voice rattled through copper pipes all over the train, informing them to leave their trunks and pets in their compartments. He rubbed his cheek and Hermione looked at him guiltily.

When he had come back to their compartment, he had profusely apologized for the invasion of their privacy. Hermione had forgiven him, then had slapped him hard on his face for his comment about her underwear, then had hugged him and apologized for the slap. Overwhelmed by her abrupt mood shifts, he patted her head just like he would do with Cassie and asked for forgiveness again. Susan didn’t seem to mind the eyeful he got from her unclad bum and Daphne had made peace with him after threatening him with manual non-magical castration if he ever pulled that stunt again. He made promises with fingers crossed on his back.

After that, they had fallen in comfortable silence, reading books or watching the afternoon become dusk and dusk to become night. It was pitch-black outside when the train stopped. 

They disembarked and tried hard not to be carried by the mass of students in black. Someone was calling for First Years, so Harry and the girls trudged away from the door and tried to manoeuvre between the older students. Someone’s pointy hat almost poked Harry on the eye, Susan tripped twice and Hermione was shoved by some teens who were playing around with a Quaffle. Her PG-safe muttering made him smile.

The man calling the younger students was _huge_. Harry had never seemed someone that large before, a mountain of muscle and hair, his black beard long enough to be tucked under his belt, hair like a thorn bush crawling down his enormous back and thrusting forward at every possible direction, a robe made of a patchwork of furs and leathers. Harry assumed the man was at least a half-giant, as he as twice as tall as a normal adult man and at least three times as large. A hand the size of a trashcan lid waved them over, the other carried a lantern big enough for Cassie to crawl inside.

“Firs’ Years! Firs’ Years com’ here! Oh! There you are. Com’ closer!”

There were around a hundred kids around the man, none reached even his waist. Harry remembered his mother telling him a story about a gentle man she was friends with but there was something about health hazard on that story… Cakes? Something about cakes? He couldn’t remember, it was terribly hard to pull stories about her Hogwarts years from his mother, it had been years since the last one. The man smiled at them, his black, liquid-like eyes were gentle and cheery, so different from the look he had imagined a giant would have.

“Welcome’ to ‘Ogwarts!” The man exclaimed, opening his arms and almost knocking over a small pudgy boy. “Sorry, lad. Well, the name is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of ‘Ogwarts. Since who knows how long, the First Years cross the Black Lake by boat on their first day of school. So, take one of those, no more than four per boat. Go on!”

With the last older students leaving, they finally could hear the sound of water. Near the station, a small pier had around thirty boats attached to it, bobbing gently on the water. The First Years moved behind Hagrid, trying their best to embark without falling on the icy black waves. The wind was picking up some force, and they tittered under their cloaks and robes. Harry jumped inside one of the boats and extended his hand for Hermione, who took it gladly with a nervous smile. After her, Susan and Daphne followed, making the boat rock madly under their movements. It was a tight fit, even for slender children like them. Susan dipped her hand in the water, shivering and yelping, making Daphne sigh. Hermione was holding the wooden border so tight her knuckles were becoming white.

At Hagrid’s order, all the boats lurched forward, coming into formation all on their own, a big triangle of boats with the giant’s as its head. The only light came from the lantern Hagrid had affixed on a mast on his huge boat, swinging under the caress of the wind. The lake was so dark they couldn’t see anything under the waters. The boats were describing a big circle, not too fast but with good speed, never breaking from their perfect formation.

There was an arch of stone on the lake, ivy hanging low from it, almost touching the water. Harry looked up but it was too dark to see what the arch was, probably the underside of some bridge. Hagrid’s voice was booming over the water sounds and the wind.

“After that, you’ll’ have your firs’view of ‘Ogwarts! Careful with the ‘eads!”

Harry lowered his head so the wet ivy wouldn’t touch him, Hagrid was too tall for it to work and had pushed aside the plants with his hand. There was a gasp of surprise and Harry raised his gaze. At his side, Hermione seemed entranced.

Hogwarts was huge, bright and beautiful. Perched at the top of a precipice, the castle was lit from inside, thousands of windows cascading light and revealing its incredible architecture: towers and roofs, slates and passages, bridges and balconies were strewed all over, bending in impossible shapes, making the castle seem almost like a dream suspended in the dark sky. They kept staring at it, bending backwards to see its beautiful grey form, until they disappeared through another arch, one carved directly on the face of the precipice. After a while, the boats arrived at an underground pier, slowing down until they gently hit the stone and ropes snaked in the air tying them in place. This time, Daphne helped them out, as she was closer to the pier. The boathouse seemed to be a natural cave, their steps echoing loudly. Someone had carved rough steps on the stone and they trudged upstairs, Hagrid once again leading them.

Their steps echoed in the great chamber, the darkness surrounded them. There was a loud flutter of wings, probably bats hiding in the ceiling, and Hermione’s hand grasped his so tight he felt his fingers going numb. He squeezed her hand back and gave her a reassuring smile. She nervously smiled back.

They left through an unremarkable wooden door, the natural cave giving away to stone and mortar. From its colour, the castle had been erected with the same stone as the precipice, as the great rectangular blocks were the same grey as the cavern walls. The corridor was damp, its ceiling low and oppressive, greenish light emanating from torches too far away from each other to properly lit the place. There was no smell of smoke, however, and no soot on the ceiling over the flames, showing they were magical. However, as magical everlasting fire produced no heat, the dungeon-like corridor was cold.

Another door greeted them, a larger one, reinforced with iron beams and huge black nails. Hagrid took the iron knocker and thumped it heavily on the thick wood. The sound was so loud a pudgy boy jumped in fear.

The latch screeched and the door swung open, a tall, slender witch opening it from outside. She was dressed in an elegant emerald-green dress robe, pointy shoes and a big hat topped with a wide feather. Her brunette, greying hair was tied on the back of her head in a tight bun, sharp eyes staring at them behind small wire glasses.

“The Firs’ Years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid announced. The woman nodded tightly.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from now. Please, follow me.”

They marched behind her, the witch’s presence alone holding them in line and quiet. The door led to an open hall, so huge one couldn’t even look at the ceiling, big enough to fit an entire cathedral inside. There were giant columns here and there and a gorgeous staircase made from something that looked like marble. Iron-wrought candelabras illuminated the room with soft, warm light, floating in the air with nothing to suspend them. As they passed one of the large columns, larger than Hagrid in diameter, Harry saw parchments glued to the stone, like posters. He couldn’t read them, however, as Professor McGonagall walked briskly and there was no way in hell he would be left behind under her watch. She didn’t look like the kind of witch one wants to annoy.

The Professor led them to a small room right next to a huge set of wood doors. It was a tight fit and the room was barren, just grey stone walls and ceiling, a couple of candles floating above their heads. She closed the door and turned to them, her long fingers brushing the tight bun of hair on the back of her neck, the black net contrasting beautifully with her strains of silver between the brown. 

“As the deputy headmistress and resident master of transfiguration, is my pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts,” she started, her tone even and low, but carrying easily to the back of the room. Her presence reminded Harry of his own mother and he could easily see why Lily praised that woman so much. The redhead incorporated the same demeanour when lecturing him on magic. “In a moment, you’ll be sorted into one of our four Houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Every house has a very long history and its own legacy, a legacy you will be asked to hold while you are at Hogwarts, and even beyond these halls. During your time in this school, your House will be your family, your victories will be shared with your housemates, as will your faults: good behaviour is awarded points to your house, while mischief makes all your housemates suffer from the loss of their hard-earned points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. Also, every House has a professor as its Head, so if you have a hard time accommodating, have questions or concerns, or just want to have some adult advice, don’t refrain to consult your Head of House. Every House also has six Prefects, fellow housemates that will be happy to assist you. You will meet everyone after the banquet. For the Sorting—“

“Yes!” Interrupted someone near the front. Harry couldn’t believe it and from the gasps from the girls around him, neither could them. Biting his lips hard not to burst out laughing, Harry watched Draco Malfoy swagger to the front of the group. “It’s great you touched that point, ma’am. Somehow, the Prefects forgot to give us the Sorting Quiz, almost condemning us to never be sorted! As the son of Lucius Malfoy, Head of the Board of Governors, I can’t help but bring this matter to light. Me and my friends had to write our answers from a copy a generous fellow lent us.”

“My friends and I” Hermione muttered beside him, making it even harder for Harry to reign in his laughter. When Draco thrust the parchment with his answers alongside a very particular roll with the Quiz, Susan doubled over behind Daphne, wringing in her spot, her face as red as a tomato from the effort to not let a sound escape.

Professor McGonagall glanced at the parchment.

“I fear your generous fellow played a childish prank on you, Mr Malfoy,” the boy’s face turned grey, green, yellow, red and grey again. “There is no paper test involved in the Sorting process. I also assure you your brand of shampoo doesn’t impact your House selection.”

Daphne gave a minuscule cough, covering her mouth daintily with her long sleeve. There was a strain around her eyes from holding all that laughter inside. Hermione had covered her face with her hands. She had suggested that one. Harry bet Draco had chosen “muggle tears”.

“Now, as I was saying, the Selection will start shortly. I will return to fetch you when we are ready. For now, please use this time to smarten yourselves up.”

She turned around and left the small room, closing the door behind her. Harry noticed the professor had taken the parchment with her. He hoped it would be passed around the faculty instead of investigated. Hermione would kill him if he got her in trouble before school even started.

“So, Malfoy, what was it?”

“What?” Spat the boy, turning around. A sandy-haired boy was smiling predatorily back on him. 

“The shampoo? The one that makes you a big, strong Slytherin boy? Is it snake spit?”

It seemed Draco Malfoy had already made some enemies during his childhood. Harry needed to grasp quickly the interactions between his classmates, as he had been isolated from the wizarding world for all his life. From the looks of it, the tall boy with sandy hair wasn’t part of Draco’s fanbase and was powerful or foolish enough to make it crystal clear.

“Shut up, Macmillan. When my father hears of this travesty, heads will roll. And if I discover you have something with this…”

While the boys bickered in front of everybody, Harry used the confusion to quickly assess his yearmates. Most of the boys and girls looked mildly interested in the fight but they didn’t seem to stand out in any way. His plans needed him to focus on the important players while ignoring the bulk. Besides Malfoy, but inching away from him little by little, a contemplative expression on her face was a girl with a raven bob cut hair, her small nose wrinkled in a semi-permanent face of disgust. Crabble and Goyle looked like part of the stonework, faces blank. Probably they hadn’t even noticed they were pranked. Macmillan was loud, mocking and had a group of boys and girls cheering him on. A leader, whichever his House would be. Draco seemed to have his own power base, but the scene unfolding before them seemed to be making them weaver. Children are children, they wouldn’t want to follow the class clown. A tall, tanned boy was watching the fight with open disdain, a smaller girl by his side was laughing hard to the point of tears streaming down her face.

Some looked confused by it all, probably muggleborns. A small boy with a large nose seemed to be calculating some kind of plan. A pair of twins were muttering between them. Twins, nice. A tiny Chinese girl was reading patterns on the stone wall. A boy with brunette hair was reading a book, seated on the floor. And the pudgy boy he had seen earlier seemed to be a little green on the face, his back glued to the wall. He had his cloak clasped right under his left ear. 

The door creaked open and all shouts died out. Professor McGonagall gestured, making the children file out the room. As they were leaving, ghosts burst through the wall, chatting among themselves. Susan jumped a little, then took his hand and clasped it tightly. Harry gave her a reassuring smile but held her hand the entire way to the great wooden doors to the left of the Entrance Hall.

The Great Hall was packed full with students from all four Houses, sitting along four long tables. At the back of the hall, another long table was set, the professors watching the new students with mild interest. At the centre of the table, on a golden throne, an ancient wizard was seated, his long snow-white beard almost on his plate. He was wearing purple robes with bright silver stars that moved over the cloth, a big pointy hat completing the set. 

Harry was distracted from his observations by the enchanted ceiling, a perfect copy of the night sky, stars shining and stormy clouds rumbling from far away. Hermione said something to Daphne, but he couldn’t hear it. The enchanted sky was too beautiful, globes of warm yellow light floating in the air, illuminating the entire hall. It was like walking into a dream. 

There was a stool in front of the faculty table, a tattered wizard hat on it. After the First Years fell in line, the hall quieted down, all eyes glued to the small piece of fabric. Harry wondered if it was an enchanted item. His answer came almost immediately, as a rip near the brim opened up, as a mouth, and the hat started to sing.

It was a strange song, about the houses and their qualities, coupled with some dull jokes. From Professor McGonagall’s face, she was barely tolerating it. As the hat finished, everybody started to clap, Dumbledore being the most enthusiastic. 

“When I call your name, come to the front, sit on the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. After being sorted, sit with your housemates,” the deputy headmistress instructed, raising a long roll of parchment. “Abbot, Hannah.”

A red-faced girl with blonde pigtails rushed forward, sat on the stool and let the professor drop the hat on her head. It was big enough to cover her eyes. After a few seconds, the mouth ripped open again and announced “Hufflepuff!”. The second table to the right burst in cheers and welcomed the overwhelmed new badger.

Susan was called next, her sweaty hand leaving Harry’s own. She put on a brave face before walking towards the stool. The hat took a little bit longer, before deciding her to be a Hufflepuff too. Terry Boot, the boy with the book from earlier, became the first Ravenclaw, the third table clapping loud. It was the fifth name, however, that raised Harry’s interest.

Upon calling, Lavender Brown stepped forward, the hall filling with whisperings. Some of the girls were standing up to look at her. Harry couldn’t see anything really interesting with the girl: she was pretty, wearing a bit of makeup enough to reinforce her natural beauty, her robes seeming made of finer material than most, something not uncommon for a Pureblood. She had bleached blonde hair, brown eyes a little darker than Hermione’s and a big bust for a girl her age. While Harry could perfectly understand the healthy interest in breasts, it wasn’t enough to explain why the girls seemed to be in front of a celebrity.

“Gryffindor!”

The table on the far left boomed loudly and the girls, in particular, seemed to be ecstatic. The Slytherin females looked sick. Instead of sitting in the space at the end of the table reserved for the "firsties”, the older lionesses made her sit with them. Harry scratched his head in confusion. He had studied the main players in his year, a list compiled by his mother from newspaper articles and rumours. He knew the names and some background information about the Purebloods. He had already snatched the only muggleborn interesting enough to shake the magical world. Who was that Brown girl?

McGonagall, however, wasn’t inclined to gossiping, marching on with the sorting. Millicent Bulstrode, the tallest and bulkiest First Year, was sorted on Slytherin, the table on the far right side of the Hall clapping politely. The small laughing girl from earlier, now called Tracey Davis, became a Slytherin, which made Daphne give a small smile. Gregory Goyle became a Slytherin too, and then it was Hermione’s turn.

Harry gave her a smile, but she couldn’t return it. She walked with her head held right, although. The hat took a long time to decide, making him worry a little bit. Finally, the rip loudly proclaimed “Gryffindor!”, and Hermione skipped happily toward the red and golden table. Daphne was already moving forward when Professor McGonagall called, the hat barely touching her head before sorting her into Slytherin. The Chinese girl became a Ravenclaw. The shy pudgy boy, trembling from head to toe, became a Gryffindor after almost three minutes, and he was probably so happy with it he had rushed down to the table while still wearing the hat. Under thunderous laughter, he walked back and returned the hat to the very unamused professor.

Draco Malfoy, his shampoo notwithstanding, became a Slytherin as he wished, however, he seemed a lot less enthusiastic about the Sorting. He kept turning his head, scanning openly the crowd, searching for him. The calculating boy, Theodore Nott, soon became his housemate. Pansy Parkinson, Draco’s supporter with the disgusted face, went to Slytherin too, sitting beside the boy. The twins were split: Parvati took a sit near Hermione, while Padma Patil sat down as a Ravenclaw. And then…

“Potter, Harry.”

The hall once again was filled with whispers, his new shoes squeaking loudly against the polished stone floor. Harry kept his head forward, trying hard to ignore the pointing fingers and the mutterings. In the four last versions of the Halloween Talk, he had heard how his name was known by every wizard and witch around Britain and far beyond. The perspective was as daunting that night as it was all those years before. However, he was not a common boy, he was not an unprepared wizard. His mother was a Goddess, and he would be one of hers Apostles. He was going to change the world, so he could handle a little bit of unwanted fame. He took a sit on the stool, the hat brim falling before his eyes. 

A voice resounded inside his head.

_Interesting, very interesting!_

_Are you reading my mind?_

_Reading your mind? Why, pray tell, would I read your mind to Sort you, boy?_

Harry felt like the hat was teasing him a little. Ancient artefacts were very fickle things and God knows where the thing would put him in if he offended it. Carefully, Harry tried to answer.

_Well, won’t you search through my memories, trying to understand my personality? Isn’t it what is needed to sort me?_

The hat laughed openly inside his head, but it was such a sincere laugh he hardly was offended by it.

_How Freudian of you! Many children come with some conceptions about my workings, but it’s always funny! Well, Mr Potter, I don’t have interest in your memories. But, as you seem interested, do you know what is a habit?_

_Habit? Is it… well, the way you always do something? Like taking a shower before going to bed, like my sister does?_

_A habit is a little bit more than that, Mr Potter. It’s the way you are going to react to something when thrust into a certain situation. It’s created by your beliefs, your experiences, your knowledge. Habits are entangled inside you, just waiting for the right conditions to make you react in a certain pattern. Right now, I’m testing your habits, deep in your mind, when your upper conscious can’t interfere. I present you with those conditions and see how your habits make you react. Your actions, not your memories, tell me who you are._

Harry was stunned by it, and relieve his precious secrets weren’t exposed to the hat. His mother had said the Sorting process was magically bound and no information could be leaked, even to Dumbledore, but he had been afraid for their numerous secrets.

_So I can’t interfere with the Sorting? Like ask for a House?_

_Do you know where do you want to go? Stay with a friend, perhaps? Well, you easily can make friends, so probably you already have some, from the trip. Maybe go to Slytherin, where you can help Daphne, dethrone Draco and pave the way for your sister?_

_How do you know about them?_

_That, Mr Potter, would be telling._

_…Fine. Well, Slytherin would be an interesting choice but I would also have to keep glancing over my shoulder the entire time, and probably would raise Dumbledore’s suspicious. He already had a Slytherin student going bad before, he would keep an eye on me to avoid a repetition. And, well, I’ve just met Daphne, but I have a feeling she knows how to handle herself. Draco is already getting down on his own, and Cassie doesn’t need her path paved. So, no Slytherin for me._

_Very well, you have a certain way with words and have a very clear mind. Ravenclaw?_

_I have no interest in knowledge for knowledge sake. I’m different from my mother._

_I see. Hufflepuff is out too, you wouldn’t fit in in that House. You want to lead, not to follow, and your loyalty is for your loved ones alone. That leaves me with your pride, your strength, and your bold plans for this world. There are so many inside your head, you keep yourself very occupied. Plans inside plans inside plans. A labyrinth just like your mother. I was enchanted not to give away my opinions, except during my songs, but if I could say something… I would say I like the harem plan the most._

_It’s my pride and joy._

_Let me know if it works out. Gryffindor!_

Harry took out the hat under deafening applause, the Gryffindor table clapping and booming, hitting the wood surface with their fists and chanting “we’ve got Potter! We’ve got Potter!” He took a sit beside Hermione, who squeezed his hand. There were no surprises after that. After “Zambini, Blaise” was sorted, the stern professor took the hat and the stool away, returning quickly as Dumbledore stood up, his long beard touching the tabletop even as he was standing. He raised his arms as if trying to embrace the whole Hall, the warm yellow light reflecting brilliantly on his small half-moon glasses, making his eyes sparkle. Even before seeing him do magic, just from that gesture alone, Harry realized Dumbledore was a powerful wizard. 

“Welcome! Welcome to Hogwarts! There is a lot for us to talk about, but that’s for after the banquet. For now, I just want to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

As he took his seat, the first years glanced around, trying to make some sense from the Headmaster’s words, while the older students rolled with it. Hermione looked dazzled by it all, shaking her head furiously as the plates, trays and terrines magically filled with food in front of their eyes. Harry shrugged and took some mashed potatoes.

“I’ve read about you,” Hermione whispered, her body close to his, as she reached for the green peas. He smiled at her.

“I assure you I’m much more interesting personally.”

The Irish boy, Seamus Finnegan, was waving his wand over the goblet, his voice getting louder at each repetition of some kind of rhyme.

“Eye of the rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum!”

He peeked inside the goblet, but couldn’t see any change to its contents.

“Are you sure this is a real spell?” Hermione asked, her cheeks still a tad red. “It doesn’t sound like anything I’ve read before.”

“Oh, I’m sure you read everything there is to know before coming here, girlie” barked the boy, making Hermione shrink under his stare. “Excuse me for interrupting your banquet with my spell!”

“Shut up, Finnegan, you know she is right,” Harry cut in, feeling annoyed at the boy. Hermione still had her head lower, but her hand inched towards his under the table, he grasped it tightly. “Also, you can’t transfigure water into alcohol.”

“Why not?” Asked the dark-skinned boy sitting beside Finnegan. Harry thought he was called Tom or something. Hermione perked up a little bit.

“It’s because magic cannot create carbohydrates, like sugar, one of the main ingredients to making distilled beverages like rum. It’s one of the Five Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elementary Transfiguration, i.e., things that cannot be created entirely from magic: food, blood, semen, ovules and life.”

Finnegan and a good portion of the nearby students were looking at her with their mouths hanging open. Hermione seemed to quickly get uncomfortable with their stares. She moved her head closer to Harry’s so she could whisper again.

“Isn’t it common knowledge?” 

“For an adult, yes. But I think their surprise is because you said ‘semen’”.

“What! Oh, this is so _juvenile_.”

One of the stunned boys started to laugh. Harry was pretty sure he had heard about that one, something about his father… He had ginger hair, a long nose and a smudge on his left cheek from the chicken drum he still had in his hand. He used the meat to point at Hermione, something that made her back away immediately to avoid flying bits and oil.

“You must be the bravest girl I’ve ever met, Granger.”

“Uh?”

“Yep,” he nodded, taking a bite of his chicken. “With a big brain like that, and you came here instead of the birdhouse, you must be bold as they come.”

Not knowing if that should be taken as a compliment or not, and a little bit disgusted by him talking with his mouth full, she blushed and looked back at her plate.

“So, Weasley,” called the Irish boy, getting out of his funk from the earlier exchange. “Ready to show us some new wacky wonder?”

“It’s _Weasley’s Wizarding Wonders_ , you wanker.”

“Language!” Called Hermione. Harry hid his laugh inside his napkin. Weasley nodded an apology. “Wizarding Wonders?”

Thankfully, he swallowed before answering.

“My father’s work. He’s an inventor. See those round things emitting light above our heads? It’s his work. Luciglobes, we call'em. Produce no heat, only stable, warm yellow light, just like a candle but with no fickler and no dripping. Every wizarding house has at least one and Hogwarts it’s our biggest client. And that’s not everything we make—“

“Yes. Like the crystal battery that randomly explodes,” Finnegan interrupted. “Or the rubber duck that _dies_ when the bathtub water is too dirty. Or that funny little chicken thing, you know, that one that set fire to your headquarters?”

“Shut up, Finnegan. Dad’s got some wild ideas from time to time but most of his inventions are very useful. You are a wan— I mean, don’t focus only on the bad ones.”

“My mum paid invested a fortune in that blasted duck, Weasley, your father almost ruined us.”

“Well, dad’s working on a new kind of Luciglobe now, Finnegan. It runs on fat instead of magic. Please tell your mother it’s her time to _shine_.”

Finnegan threw a scone at Weasley, prompting a small food fight that took in the dark-skinned boy and a tiny girl with a pointy, elvish face. Hermione rolled her eyes at it, while Harry carefully prepared some pea ammunition in case their lines be breached.

“Parvati, are you okay? You aren’t eating anything… I can’t even imagine how awful it must be to be separated from your sister…”

The cinnamon-skinned girl with a long, ink-black ponytail turned back to Hermione, shaking her head as if distracted by something. She started to pile some food on her plate but kept glancing at something on her left, as if trying to see someone.

“What? Oh, no, Padma is great but I always wanted some space, you know? Sharing everything, including your room, with your nerd sister can be so dull. Do you think she will come here after? At least for dessert?”

“Who?”

Parvati rolled her eyes.

“Lavender Brown, who could it be? Those Fifth Years played it dirty, hogging her from the get-go. My cousin said Gryffindors share a dorm if it’s true, do you mind if I got the bed next to hers?”

“Don’t worry about it, but… Who is Lavender Brown? I mean, why are the girls so… interested in her?”

Parvati stilled her fork halfway to her mouth, before lowering it slowly, facing Hermione with wide, unbelieving eyes.

“You don’t know who _Lavender Brown_ is? Haven’t you ever read Lilith?”

Hermione turned to Harry, frighten in her eyes at the prospect of missing some important literature.

“My sister reads it, I think is some kind of fashion magazine.”

“You have a sister?” Parvati asked, looking interested. However, she immediately shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. ‘ _Some kind of fashion magazine_ ’? And you never read it? In times like these, I can fully understand why the Modern Wizarding History Society pleads the Board of Governors for _Lilith_ to be included in the obligatory reading list for muggleborns. I assure you it would greatly improve your lives.”

Hermione looked to be crossing from confused to offended. However, Parvati had gathered some steam and carried on.

“ _Lilith_ is the guide for these troubled times we live in. It’s the shining light in a world of darkness and frilled purple robes. It’s the only beacon we witches have to save us from social failure. _Lilith_ is the sacred book of fashion, and the Linda Brown is our Prophetess of Beauty.”

“Linda Brown?”

“ _The_ Linda Brown, please. Her name is a legend in our world. Everybody knows her miraculous story: dropped out Hogwarts after her O.W.L.’s to take care of her dying mother, stuck at a dead-end job as a janitor at the Ministry, a single mother even before turning 17, an amateur photographer for hat catalogues during the weekends. Everything changed after she read Selene’s book. _The Witches’ Sin_ changed her life, empowered her to take the plunge. She quit her job and invested all her savings in her only dream: she wrote, photographed, edited and printed the first edition of _Lilith Magazine_ all by herself. Only five hundred copies, printed on the cheapest parchment possible and yet she sold all of them in a single week, at a makeshift newsstand in Diagon Alley. She invested all the money in the second edition the next month and so on and so on. A lone witch against the world, she built an imperium using only her own hands and her keen eye for what’s _it_.”

“It?”

“Yes, Granger. _It_. You know, when you go into a store and see all those robes, all those cuts and styles and layouts and colours but only one, only that one, is _it_. The Linda Brown knows what is _it_ before anyone else. That’s why those rags like _Witch Weekly_ didn’t stand a chance against her. She killed and buried her enemies with no effort. She isn’t still alone, of course, there is an army of witches now working in the sacred temple of fashion: Lilith’s Headquarters, Diagon Alley, 55th. And she isn’t just finding things that are _it_ , she also produces them, introducing the boldest fashion ever: earloops and stud earrings, chained rings, open-toe high-heels, olympic sandals… And don’t even get me started on the cuts! The fairy cut, bell sleeve, crossover back, pleated robes, peep-robes and, this summer, the angle-back, all from the incredible mind of _the_ Linda Brown.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling and her slim body was shaking from the force of her adoration. Harry had seen obsessed and crazy people before (he lived with three of them, after all) but Parvati Patil was truly a fashion freak.

“And now, _and now_ we have the only daughter of the Linda Brown between us. Can you even understand the impact of this? Of course, _Lilith_ cut down _Teenage Witch Weekly_ too, teenage fashion is a must in its pages but _Lilith_ is by and to adult witches. _The_ Lavender Brown, the heiress of _Lilith Imperium_ is among us. Whatever comes from her mind can impact the lives of thousands of young witches all across Europe! And we, you and I, can be the first followers to bask in this glory! If just those _flabby bints_ would stop hogging our new Prophetess…!”

“I… Well… I’m sure you’ll have lots of opportunities to talk to her, Parvati,” Hermione assured, looking like a woman accidentally caught in the middle of a raving cult session. “And I’ll make sure you get the bed just next to hers.”

Parvati squeezed Hermione against her, squeeing loudly. The elvish girl seemed jealous about it all, as it was the blonde girl next to her, both probably coming from magical families and already part of the Lilith Cult, as Harry started to dub it. A girl with square glasses looked disinterested by it all but not confused by Parvati’s explanation. With Lavender Brown rounding the numbers up, Hermione was the only muggleborn Gryffindor First Year. It would be hard on her. Harry was glad she had opened up to him so quickly.

As the banquet went on, Harry turned his eyes to the head table. He could see Hagrid at one end, his huge body making it easy to find him. At the centre, Dumbledore was eating with gusto, his beard tossed over his shoulder so it would not fall down on his plate. At his side, Professor McGonagall was cutting her steak with surgeon-like precision, talking low with a pudgy witch wearing a wide yellow hat. While he watched them talk, a tall dark-skinned woman next to the pudgy one leaned in and added something to the talk. The witch with the yellow hat burst into giggles. At Dumbledore’s other side, a slim man was picking curiously at a piece of meat pie. Next to him, a lanky, grey man was looking hungrily at the students, his plate empty. 

“Parvati, Hermione, do you know who is that? The ominous looking guy?”

“That’s Severus Snape, the Potions professor,” Parvati informed without even looking back. “I’ve heard nasty things about him, and some girls even said he never washed his hair in his life! He holds a huge grudge against Astronomy Professor, Aurora Sinistra, because she took the position of Head of Slytherin from him, years back.”

“Parvati, I think Harry’s talking about the one that’s not eating anything, the one with the pinstriped green and grey suit. I’ve never seen one, of course, but I think the man is a vampire.”

“What?” Weasley shouted, making a good part of the table look at them. Hermione shrunk again against Harry’s side. The boy toned it down, noticing the eyes on him. “Sorry, I mean, why is there a vampire here?”

Hermione shrugged as Harry took a piece of treacle tart for dessert. Parvati’s wish stayed unfulfilled, as Lavender Brown was kept by the fifth years. Hermione selected a fruit bowl while Parvati seemed to have forgotten about the food again. It was no wonder the girl was so slim. Weasley had a mountain of dessert on his plate and was currently adding banana slices to his ice-cream topped lemon pie. Finnegan was unhappily digging on a cranachan that Harry was sure had no whisky on it, or else the elves would really get in trouble with the Ministry.

As the last bite of dessert disappeared from the plates, leaving no crumble or stain behind, the Headmaster stood up once again, looking a little bit more serious.

“Dear new students, welcome to Hogwarts! To our returning students, welcome back! Now, I know you are tired and sleepy but I have some announcements to make before sending you all to your warm beds. As most of you should know by now, the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden to all students. Mr Filch, our janitor, has affixed a list of banned items on his office door, last I heard it contained a little more than three hundred and ninety items, so please check on it as soon as possible! Quidditch tryouts are held at the end of the month, keep an eye on the notice board in your common rooms for it. I also want to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, best-selling author and vampire expert Eldred Worple and his blood-brother, Mr Sanguini.”

Professor Worple was a tall, lanky wizard with long greying hair and a thick moustache. He waved happily and bowed to the applause from the students but Harry could see the emaciated grey man at his side was getting anxious, forcing Worple to discreetly pin the man down with a strong grip on his shoulder.

“Yes, thank you Professor Worple for accepting to share your knowledge with our students and thank you Mr Sanguini for coming. We also have another introduction, as the returning students may know. Mr Hilliard, if you could please come here?”

A stocky Fifth Year rose from Ravenclaw table and marched towards the Headmaster, exulting confidence. He had blonde hair and striking ice-blue eyes on an amicable face, strong arms under his long sleeves showing a disposition for hard physical work very uncommon among the ‘claws. He faced the students, standing before the head table, his voice strong and a little bit husky, as if he had already talked a lot that day.

“Thank you Professor Dumbledore, my name is Robert Hilliard and I’m the newly elected Head of the Studentgamot. In the last few years, the main role of the Studentgamot has been the careful and just management of Hogwarts Club System budget, making sure every club is properly funded so to exercise its activities. This is the challenge I’ve inherited from the founder of the Studentgamot, Lydia Blackreach: to tirelessly support our 21 clubs and 4 Quidditch teams, so they can continue to be not only unreplaceable learning environments and fun extra-curricular activities but also a powerful tool to foster inter-house unity. To be worthy of this vote of confidence lent to me by 78% of the student population in the election last term, our new Studentgamot will work towards a deeper integration with the Prefect System and the Hogwarts faculty and staff, bringing more space and security to our clubs and also reducing the costs of our Fairs in November and May. All of this is only possible thanks to the tireless work of our Studentgamot staff and the openness of the Board of Governors and the Hogwarts faculty and staff. So, thank you all for your work and let’s continue towards a bright new future at Hogwarts!”

Under loud applause, the boy bowed gracefully and returned to his table. Parvati leaned conspiratorially over the table.

“I’ve heard Hilliard turned down the Prefect badge just to be the Studentgamot Head.”

Weasley and Finnegan’s responses to that where drowned by Dumbledore’s voice.

“So, before ending this year’s Welcome Feast, let us sing the school anthem! Everybody, pick your favourite tune!”

The old man cheerfully brandished his wand, making words appear in the air, floating silver ribbons twisting and turning to become letters. Judging by the professors' faces, the decision wasn’t very popular. The students stood up and started to sing, everybody in their own time and tune, turning the whole thing into a cacophony of off-key notes and shouted words. Harry quickly gave up on accompanying that mess, and just lip-dubbed it. After most of the school finished, a single pair of redhead twins marched on, singing the anthem in a terrible, low death march. From Weasley’s head shakes, the pair was close family with him. Dumbledore, however, seemed to be enjoying it. He brushed a tear from his eye, as the last ribbon slowly disappeared into the air.

“Ah, music! A magic deeper and more mysterious than any we teach here! Now, to bed the lot of you. First Years, please stay seated, your Prefects will escort you to your Houses.”

As the older students left and the long tables emptied up, Parvati waved to lone blonde girl near the middle of the table, trying to beckon her closer but she ignored them and kept her gaze fixed on the head table.

“Little bit snotty your Prophetess, eh?” Finnegan provoked, making the dark-skinned boy at his side swallow a laugh. Parvati blushed but did not retort. Another ginger boy approached them, an impossibly shiny Prefect badge pinned on his robe. Probably some kind of spell.

“First Years, welcome to Hogwarts!” He started. Harry supposed he was Weasley’s older brother, as their eyes were the same colour, but the boy sounded very posh, unlike the rougher First Year. “My name is Percival Weasley and I’ll be your guide tonight through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts!”

“Did you steal this speech from the Knight Bus tourist guide?” Weasley asked, interrupting his (now confirmed) brother. “I’m dead on my feet, Percy, let’s go.”

“Ronald.” Intoned the boy, his ears flaming red while the children laughed openly. “As crass as ever. Well, as you wish. Follow me.”

Percy seemed to get in a funk, as he didn’t utter a single word the entire time. He also probably had a very mean streak, as he rushed through the halls, walking briskly and taking many turns without no warning. It was impossible for them to remember the path to the Gryffindor House, as more than once Percy seemed to randomly choose a door, a corridor, a staircase or even cross through a tapestry that was just an illusion. The stairways moved, the corridors were longer than they could physically be, some stairs going up actually went down, others that were clearly going down actually made they go to the next upper floor. It was maddening and Harry wondered how they would go down to breakfast the next morning. 

Seemly at random, Percy stopped in front of a painting, in the middle of the corridor. Hogwarts walls were littered with paintings, pictures and sometimes even busts, all of them talking, moving, waving, trading places inside their frames and welcoming them. The painting in front of them was almost touching the floor, huge and framed in gold. A large woman in a horrible purple dress had been painted on it, sitting on a tiny chair with strained thin legs. She waved a hand loaded with gaudy golden and scarlet rings.

“Password, dear?”

“Caput Draconis,” intoned Percy. She gave him a wink, before the whole painting swung inwards, revealing a round hole in the wall, big enough to fit an adult inside. Percy marched inside and the First Years followed him, some stumbling as the hole didn’t reach all the way down and they had to lift their legs and straddle it a little as they were still too short to walk in comfortably. As their robes went down to their ankles and had no opening, it was quite the ungraceful act to enter their House.

The common room, as the Headmaster had called it, was a huge, perfectly circular space littered with chairs, sofas, tables and bookcases. It was clear they were inside one of the castle’s towers, a giant fireplace crackling merrily and huge windows blessing them with a spectacular view of the lake and the gardens, even during the night. Floating luciglobes gave a warm light to the whole place, making it a comfortable room to study, read and pass the time. Some older students were still up, talking around the fire or playing cards at one of the tables. Percy pointed to a set of spiral stairs to his left.

“That way is the boys' dorms. At the other side of the tower, that set of stairs lead to the girls' dorms. You cannot enter other people’s dorms, and boys are prohibited to visit the girls’. Breakfast starts at six, classes at nine. Tomorrow morning you will get your hour tables, please don’t be late for breakfast. Near the fireplace is the notice board, keep an eye on it every day for news, password changes and general notices. You cannot bring people from other Houses here. You cannot divulge the House location or password. You cannot go inside other Houses even if you discover where they are. If you lose or forget the password, you will have to wait in front of the Fat Lady until someone opens the painting for you. Your things are already inside your dorm room. You cannot switch beds. Goodnight.”

The boy turned around and quickly went upstairs. The dark-skinned boy whistled low.

“That’s a man who is easy to irk. Weasley, I pity you.”

“Shut up, Tomas. Well, I’ll go to bed, goodnight fellas.”

“Want to have breakfast together? We can have Daphne and Susan sit with us.” Harry asked, noticing Hermione looked a little bit shy about proposing it herself. She was new at that whole friend thing, he remembered. Her smile paid his effort off.

“Of course! See you at, let’s see, seven o’clock?”

“I won’t be late. Goodnight, Hermione. Don’t get in trouble for switching beds.”

“Well, Mr Weasley won’t know, will he? Boys can’t get inside our dorms, his words, not mine,” she winked at him, making the boy laugh. “Also, just between us, but I’m afraid Parvati will murder me in my sleep if I get the bed next to Brown’s.”

With a last wave, they parted and Harry trudged upstairs alongside the rest of the boys. The circular staircase led them to a first landing where a door was assigned as the First Year one. Inside, a circular room with an iron stove at the centre to provide heat during winter, four-poster beds and their trunks at the foot of each one. A door led to a communal bathroom. Harry’s bed was the first one, right next to the door. He opened his trunk and dug out his pyjamas while Weasley and Finnegan used the bathroom.

“The guys told me you are famous…” the dark-skinned boy started. “But I couldn’t understand it really well…”

“Uh, in truth my mother is the famous one,” Harry explained, straining a smile. “She died to protect me and her magic became… A sort of protection within me. It never happened before like this, so people got curious about it. But, well, I was just a baby, I can’t remember anything about it.”

The boy looked horrified, something that put him on Harry’s good books straight up. 

“I— I’m so sorry. I had no idea—“, he rubbed his hair with his hand in pure frustration. “Look, I’m sorry for even asking. Can you, I don’t know, just forget about it?”

“It’s okay. No, really. I’m at peace with it now. The pointing and the stares are a little annoying but I can handle it. You shouldn’t be ashamed for asking questions. I’m not mad.”

“Well, even if you say so, I’m sorry. I’m totally new to this magic thing, a whole world hidden from view! My mother is a kindergarten teacher, my dad works in construction. They were mindblown about this all and, well, if not for this foundation thing that offered me a full scholarship, I don’t think I would be here. I’ve so many questions but I fear I’ll keep stumbling on these horrible mistakes…”

Harry slapped his back, making him straighten up.

“Well, you can always ask me. I’m no authority in wizarding life, I’ve lived in the muggle world you see, but I know a thing or two. And if you make some mistake, I’ll just kick your ass and things will be okay again.”

“In the wizarding world, to have your ass kicked by Harry Potter is a great honour”, Ron informed, exiting the bathroom. “You can always ask me, too. I’ve lived in the wizarding world all my life, and I have five older brothers. You will have to pick up the slack if you want to offend me.”

“He has a sister too”, Finnegan interjected. “Bit lil' young for my tastes, but a fine one if ya catch my meaning.”

“Finnegan, one more word and I will throw you out the window. Dean, don’t you worry about it. We are here for you, you know? We aren’t slimy snakes that hate muggleborns. Just… whatever you do, never say you are a muggleborn to my father. He will fill you up with questions until you die.”

Finnegan nodded.

“My dad is a muggle. Mother’s a witch. His dad once came to my home. Filled my dad with idiotic questions about _electro-city_. The man is a genius, but completely barmy.”

Weasley nodded sagely. He looked to the last member of the dorm, the pudgy boy that had tried to steal the hat.

“You don’t say much, uh, mate? Muggleborn?”

The boy shook his head slowly. Harry frowned. He was a little bit short for an 11-year-old, a little too fat but what was strange was the nervous, skittish aura around him. He was trembling a little, his left hand, his feet, the twitch around his eye as if it were a nervous tick. The way he never met anyone’s eyes, the way his long brown bangs would fall over, shadowing his face. The way his right arm…

“What happened to your hand, mate?” 

The boy yelped and trembled even more. He was trying to hide his right arm behind his back, just like he had done the entire time. Tears swelled in his eyes but Dean crossed the room and hesitantly grasped his shoulder. The boy jerked a little, but Dean held on.

“Hey, mate, that’s okay. You all right? Need some help?” 

He opened his mouth but closed it before having a sound escape. He opened it again, took a deep breath.

“I-I-i st-stutter.”

It was a painfully low and hesitant voice. Harry approached him too, slowly and in the least threatening way, before grasping his other shoulder. The skin under the robe was twisting and quivering.

“What’s your name?”

“N-ne-nevi-lle.”

“Neville?”, the boy nodded. “Great, I’m Harry Potter. You don’t need to be nervous, okay? As I said to Dean, you can bring any problem of yours to me. I take care of my friends.”

Neville blushed and looked down, but nodded a little bit. He slowly seemed to unwind, his right arm coming to rest on his side. He took a deep breath.

“M-m-my arm. See? I h-h-hav’no… h-h-hand.”

He lifted it a little bit but lowered the arm before they could see something. However, there was no hand peeking from under the sleeve. Harry frowned. Internal organs were hard to regrow but limbs were quite easy to recreate. Except if the limb had been severed by “dark magic”. How could someone so young have been attacked by that kind of magic? Maybe a cursed item?

Feeling the mood plunging down, Weasley forced a smile.

“Well, it’s still better than Finnegan, he has no brain.”

Dean and Harry laughed at it and even Finnegan smiled a little bit. Neville gave a tiny smile, maybe more because Weasley didn’t make a whole deal out of his disability.

“Well, guys, I’m knackered. See you in the morning. Hope Percy don’t write home all whiny because I interrupted his effing speech. Getting a Howler on the first day will be my death.”

“Howler?” Muttered Dean next to Harry.

“It’s an enchanted letter that screams at you.”

“You wizards are bonkers. Think there will be any problem if I glue some posters near my wall?”

“If there are no naked ladies on them, it’s okay, I reckon.”

Dean gave a fake sigh.

“Oh, well, at least I can glue half of them.”

Laughing, Harry patted the skittish Neville on his back and prepared for bed.

* * *

When Cassie went to get breakfast, there was a body on the kitchen floor. He looked like a short man, wearing wizarding robes, lying facedown on a puddle of blood. She tapped it with her bare foot, twice. Not even a twitch. 

“Wicked” she muttered to herself, before growing bored with it and walking to the fridge to get some milk. She was in a cereal mood that day.

As she tossed a ton of cereal into her bowl, her mother Apparated inside the kitchen with a loud crack. Her hair was wild, her eyes were huge and her clothes were very, very ruffled. She had her wand in her hand.

“Cassiopeia! What are you doing?”

“Bheqfhesh” she answered around a mouthful of delicious soggy cereal. It needed more milk.

“Did you touch the body?”

“Of course not, do I look stupid?”

“Good,” her mother moved toward the kitchen and peeked through the closed curtains. “Go to your bedroom, take the first five clothes you can find inside your school backpack and come back here. We are leaving in three minutes.”

“What? Why?”

“We are abandoning this house. It’s not safe anymore.”

“WHAT? WHY?”

“CASSIOPEIA! DO AS I AM—“

With an almost silent crack, Lily Apparated on the kitchen. She was wearing one of Bella’s T-Shirts and pyjama shorts, her bare feet muddy.

“It’s okay, we don’t need to leave.”

“But…”

“I could cover his tracks. Redirected all the Apparition points to somewhere else. He jumped around a lot before coming here. Also, he didn’t know the house location, he just followed the Anchor. We are safe, just need to keep vigilant for more time. I never thought someone would try to apparate using the Anchor as destination. I’ll fix the wards, nonetheless.”

“What is _happening_?”

Lily turned to her, smiling a bit before ruffling her hair, something Cassie never tolerated from others.

“Bella, teach her.”

“She is too young.”

“She is a Black. Even more, she is your daughter. You know these things don’t wait for you to be ready.”

Her mothers hardly argued in front of them. It was one of their rules, even if they were wrong, the other would never correct her in front of the children. However, even since Harry had left the day before, things were bound to change. Bella sighed.

“Come here, Cassiopeia.”

They crouched near the dead man’s head.

“This one was an Initiated at the Temple. A Whisper-Chaser.”

The Temple! Cassiopeia had only met a handful of the members of her mother’s cult. She had never heard about whispers before but she knew her brother was destined to become one of the leaders of the cult, an Apostle. There were only two Apostles already, that’s why her mother and Lily needed to keep going on missions to retrieve ancient knowledge or to “move the pieces” as Lily called it. One day, she would become an Apostle too, that was the promise she had made with Bella when she barely could talk. She would become an Apostle and gather her own followers, she would become one of the Twelve. Of course, the whole religious theme her mothers were so fond of was a little bit lame, in her opinion. She though a medieval theme would be more fun: a Queen instead of a Goddess, Princes instead of Apostles, Knights in the place of Followers. Well, to each their own.

Lily was laughing quietly on the back, stealing her cereal. Calm mind, quiet mind. Calm mind, quiet mind.

“Whisper-Chasers are people we Initiated but they are lower than Followers and even lower than Cultists. They keep an ear on the ground, searching for tidbits of interesting conversation and follow those leads. Sometimes, they struck gold and come with an interesting artefact or some sensitive information. Most of the time, they keep chasing steam. However, this one seems to have bitten something a little bigger than he could chew. See those markings on his neck? Snakebite. He suffered horribly with the poison coursing his veins but he was loyal enough to try to bring the information to us.”

“What information?”

“I’ve been thinking about it this whole time. He lost his contact device and, as a simple Initiated, he didn’t have direct contact with us. He knew he was dying, the chance of being able to survive enough to tell us something was null. And yet, carrying no message, no device, even no wand he bet everything on a never tried before Apparition using the Anchor as his goal instead of a place. He was lucky, his eminent death must have discharged some kind of accidental magic to help him along. Whisper-Chasers aren’t good wizards or witches, he could never do it on his effort alone. However, I think I know what kind of information he brought us.”

“The body.”

Lily was eating her cereal! At least they had agreed in something, as she was pouring more milk on it. But it was _her_ cereal!

“Yes,” her mother, her own mother, the person that should defend her from all evil in the world wasn’t even batting an eye at it! Whipped woman. Literally. She had heard.

Lily started coughing loudly. Serves you right.

“His own body is his message. Cassiopeia, attention.”

She waved the wand over the puncture wound. A fine mist was sucked from it and flew inside a vial her mother had conjured. To perform two spells simultaneously. No wonder her mind was completely broken. She hoped one day she could be strong enough to perform two spells at the same time, even if she had to become raving mad like her mother. It would make Harry so proud of her, she was sure of it.

Talking about Harry, she wondered if he had already _used_ her little present to alleviate his frustrations.

Lily started coughing again. Come on, woman, if you are going to steal cereal, at least eat it properly!

“This is venom,” her mother was oblivious to her pledge. “Snake venom, a very potent one. I’d need to test it on our lab but, judging from where he was, we can say it’s… him. He had a pet snake before, a thing he had twisted and corrupted with his magic until it became too deadly. It had a unique venom, it looked exactly like this. That thing was killed before his depowerment, so if this man died because of it… It means a lot of bad things, Lily.”

“I’m thinking the same. Examine it, just for us to be sure. I’ll alert the other Whisperers and the Apostles. If he is back, he will try to recover his power. There are many ways to do it but I know the man. He will try to… I’ll kill him again, forever, this time.”

“He is protected while inside the castle, Lily. There is no need for harsh decisions. Even if he is back, he won’t try to attack Dumbledore’s nest before getting completely back on his feet. Have faith.”

“The problem with being a Goddess is you don’t have anyone to pray to.”

“So act, instead of praying. And you, put on your shoes, you have to meet your Governess today.”

“But… my breakfast…”

“You already had breakfast, I saw it. _Accio shoes_. I know you have been trying to avoid it the whole week but no more. Here, take them, put them and go on, being late will only make your life more difficult.”

“But, _muuuuum_!”

“No buts! Lily, what do I do with this body? It’s dirtying my kitchen floor.”

“He was a mediocre wizard but was bold in the end. And also gave me a vital clue to protect my son. Wrap it up and bury him in one of our cemeteries. He deserves a proper grave.”

“I… I don’t have a fucking clue about his name.”

Lily was looking through the window, her face sad and worried. Cassie had never seen the use of praying but she hoped her brother would be safe and sound at Hogwarts, and come home soon. She missed him dearly, like a gaping wound in her chest bleeding more than the dead man's. 

“Quirinus Quirrell.”

Bella waved her wand, linen wraps covering and encircling the man. At the same time, the blood disappeared, leaving no trace behind. The woman was barking mad. She was the most awesome mom in the world.

“Time is passing, young lady.”

Fuck her mom. Cassie put on her shoes and marched to the living room, as a woman marching to the gallows. She pressed a button on the fake fireplace, making the glass screen slide away. Behind the electric thing, the real fireplace hole was hidden. As soon as the fake fireplace was completely away from the hole, the fire erupted magically, filling it with vivid red flames. Cassie took some Floo Powder from the vase on the mantle and tossed it on the fire, watching it turn green. She stepped inside.

“The Greenery.”

And, with a flash, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was quite the long chapter, huh? Lots of things to happen, lots of characters to introduce! However, as we are approaching some of the core points of this (quite short, I think) First Year, I have to talk a little bit about my goals with Thesmophoria.
> 
> First, I love Rowling's books, even if I disagree with some of her decisions at the ending. I admire her for her incredible effort into world building, tying so many plots and twists across the books, foreshadowing and leaving tracks for us to follow. It is my wish to preserve some of this magic in this story, sprinkling tips and leads for you to investigate, never pulling your legs with some overpowered bullshit straight from Deus Ex Factory. While he only have five chapters posted, I've already amassed more than four hundred entries in my Nuclino, a wikipedia-like platform I use to world-build. From books important in this story to characters to plot-points to sweets I'm creating for the characters to eat, there is a lot of things to explore. As Rowling, not every road will be crossed, many leads I'll skip over, so if any of you someday wish to expand this story, you can take them and run with 'em.
> 
> That said, I wish to answer some of the questions I've been getting from you all, and even pre-answer some this chapter will raise: why things are changing? And the answer lies in this world-building I've been making the past three years as I thought this story out: a single event changed, and it cascaded down a lot in this story.
> 
> Lily was bullied to hell and back during her teenage years. She was being almost-sincere in her speech to Pamela. She turned to the "dark arts" to find answers, while she lost her empathy for people. She cares for a small handful of them only. At the same time, she believes people need to be led, or else they will stray. Her approach to this is to be the shadow that guides them, the Goddess that lovingly moves the wizards and witches in the world so they don't go down the wrong path. She believes people have the right to choose they own fate, but only if she approves their decision.
> 
> However, differently from Voldemort, she never bets all her chips in the same number. Voldemort was an incredible wizard, a true magical monster but his plans were all very short-sighted. He has an one-track-mind and hogs to much power to himself. He dropped everything to pursue Harry, even before knowing Harry truly was the prophesied baby and, after his "death", his entire power structure crumbled to nothing. Lily is cut from a very different cloth and, just like the hat said to Harry, have plans within plans within plans. She moves the world like a spider building a web, while Voldemort jackhammers it. Many things happening in this story can be traced back to her, far too many, so stay tuned and keep your eyes open. I won't pull any shit on you, everything have to make sense for it to happen, even if it doesn't look like it at the first glance.
> 
> Next chapter: selenism, roseanism, the governess, a goblin in human flesh, more about the Hogwarts Club System, two months of classes and the very difficult life of Neville Longbottom.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to start this with an apology to the readers of my old works: I've not deserted you. Both my older stories will be updated. The thing is, I'm in my last year of my Master's Degree, something that works quite differently here in Brazil (it's more like the American Doctorate than American Mastery). For the last two years I've worked hard to obtain my degree, and my fan fiction suffered because of it. Now that I'm finishing, I sat and started to review this story, that started in my mother language and was almost complete but never posted. I'm rewriting it on my free time, translating and adapting it to English, so I can exercise my (very poor) knowledge on this language. I'll post quite erratically, but I think this story will be way shorter than my other unfinished works. As soon as I'm free from my Master's, I'll update my older stories. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you appreciate this dark tale.


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